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"BACK  FROM  HELL' 


SAMUEL  CRANSTON  BENSON 

Who  went  to  the  war,  a  pacifist,  but  returned  a  fighting 
American. 


"Back  From  Hell 


99 


BY 

SAMUEL  CRANSTON  BENSON 


Illustrated 


CHICAGO 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO. 
1918 


Copyright 

A.  C.  McClurg  &  Co. 

1918 


Published  September,  1918 


Copyrighted  in  Great  Britain 


F.  HALL  PRINTING  COMPANY,  CHICASO 


to 

dl$Ip  Wife 


QPOr^QQ 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  A  Former  Pacifist i 

II  Red  Tape  in  Traveling 9 

III  How  I  Got  into  the  Service     ....     15 

IV  A  Unit  in  Its  Infancy 20 

V  The  Northwest  Front — Mud !     ...     25 

VI  A  Weird  Night 30 

VII  The  Red  Cross 36 

VIII  When  France  Was  First  "Gassed"    .     .     42 

IX  When  Jacques  "Went  West"  .     ...     47 

X  "Trench  Nightmare" 51 

XI  Calm  Before  a  Storm 56 

XII  If  an  Ambulance  Could  Speak  ....     60 

XIII  A  Ticklish  Attack 64 

XIV  The  Death  of  a  Comrade 67 

XV  On  an  Old  Battle  Ground 74 

XVI  The  Verdun  Attack — Life  and  Death    .     79 

XVII  Barrage,  or  Curtain  Fire 93 

XVIII  The  Ragpicker 106 

XIX  Camouflage ii2 

XX  The  Heroism  of  the  Wounded     .     .     .116 

XXI  The  Treacherous  "German  Souvenir"  .  123 

XXII  The  Nigger's  Nose 128 

XXIII  Getting  By  the  Consuls  ......  132 


Contents 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXIV     A  Close  Shave 145 

XXV      Meeting  Brand  Whitlock 148 

XXVI     My  Maps  of  Belgium 151 

XXVII  The  "Cat  and  Mouse"  Game  .     .     .     .156 

XXVIII     Shadowed  at  Liege 159 

XXIX     Results  of'Trightfulness" 163 

XXX     My  Mental  Processes 168 

XXXI     A  Night  in  Lou  vain 174 

XXXII     Ruin  and  Death 178 

XXXIII  In  the  Palace  of  the  King 187 

XXXIV  The  Kaiser's  Envy 190 

XXXV  Caught  by  the  Huns  and  Tried  as  a  Spy  196 

XXXVI  Threatened  with  Crucifixion    ....  204 

XXXVII  My  Escape  and  Return  to  Good  Old 

France aio 

XXXVIII     No  Man's  Land 215 

XXXIX     Jean  and  "Frenchie" 223 

XL     The  Psychology  of  France 228 

XLI  The  Contagious  Spirit  of  Sacrifice    .     .  233 

XLII     The  Heritage  of  Hate 238 

XLIII     "Back  From  Hell" 243 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

Samuel  Cranston  Benson Frontispiece 

American  Ambulance  Headquarters,  Neuilly,  France  22 
Ambulance  Ready  to  Leave  for  the  Front  ....  22 
An  American  Woman  Caring  for  a  Little  Wounded 

French  Child 38 

An  American  Ambulance  Ready  for  Duty  ....  60 
American  Ambulances  on  the  Road  to  the  Front  .  .  80 
Allied    Troops    Charging    Through    Barbed-Wire 

Entanglements 102 

A   Dressing  Station   Set   Up  on   Newly   Captured 

Ground I20 

A  Hurry  Call 134 

"Jumbo,"  the  Biggest  Ambulance  on  the  Western 

Front 134 

The  Burning  of  a  French  Field  Hospital  .  .  .  .  1 70 
Ambulance  Men  Working  Over  a  "Gassed"  Soldier  225 
Destruction  of  a  French  Hospital  by  a  German  Bomb  238 
American  Hospital  at  Neuilly  Transferred  to  General 

Pershing 246 


"Back  From  Hell 


99 


CHAPTER  I 

A   FORMER   PACIFIST 

WHEN  the  old  Chicago  cut  loose  from  her 
moorings  in  an  Atlantic  port  it  was  a  red 
letter  day  for  me.  She  was  a  good  sized  craft, 
of  the  French  Line,  and  was  to  carry  a  lot  of 
other  Americans,  besides  myself,  from  the  United 
States  to  France.  We  were  all  in  a  spirit  of 
expectancy,  mingled  perhaps  with  sadness,  for  we 
were  going  over  to  see  and  have  a  hand  in  the 
most  stupendous  event  of  history,  the  Great  War. 
Although  many  different  motives  actuated  us, 
our  destination  was  the  same,  and  all  of  us  would 
soon  be  within  striking  distance  of  the  scene  of 
action.  Some  of  those  on  board  were  going  pri- 
marily from  a  sense  of  duty  and  gratitude  to  the 
great  European  Republic,  whose  men  had  come 
over  here  in  '76  to  help  America  kick  off  the  chains 
which  George  in  had  welded  on  her  ankles,  and 
secondarily,  because  they  wanted  to  kill  a  few  of 
the  Germans  whom  they  right  well  hated. 


^'Back  From  Hell 


Others  were  going,  and  made  no  bones  about 
saying  so,  because  they  were  natural  born  soldiers 
of  fortune  and  were  inclined  to  go  anywhere  that 
action  and  excitement  were  likely  to  be  found. 
A  few  were  to  be  mere  onlookers  who  were 
crossing  the  sea  as  students  of  a  great  world  move- 
ment, who,  from  an  economic  or  social  point  of 
view,  would  tabulate  in  a  cold  and  matter-of-course 
way,  the  facts  which  they  observed  and  the  con- 
clusions to  which  they  came. 

I  belonged  to  neither  of  these  classes.  I  was 
an  innocent  idealist,  though  soon,  alas,  to  be  dis- 
illusioned. I  had  resigned  a  comfortable  pastor- 
ate in  order  to  go  over  and,  as  I  conceived  of  it, 
relieve  the  pain  and  soothe  the  fevered  brow  of 
those  who  were  in  suffering,  irrespective  of 
whether  they  were  Allies  or  Germans,  and  thus 
help  usher  in  a  world  Utopia. 

I  had  always  taken  myself  rather  too  seriously 
at  home,  and  thought  I  was  a  broad-visioned  per- 
son whose  universality  of  mind  elevated  me  to 
a  position  where  I  could  see  beyond  provincial 
boundary  lines,  and  overlook  such  things  as  race 
and  creed  and  national  ideals,  thinking  of  all  men 
as  made  in  the  image  of  God,  and  all  destined 
for  one  great  goal  which  was  the  Brotherhood 


A  Former  Pacifist 


of  Man,  where  all  would  be  happy,  and  each 
would  deal  justly  and  kindly  with  his  neighbor. 

It  Is  a  natural  tendency,  I  suppose,  of  most 
ministers  to  be  optimistic  about  the  ultimate  out- 
come of  the  human  race,  and  I  was  one  of  this 
class.  I  had  buttoned  my  long  frock  coat  close  about 
my  collar  and  rubbed  my  hands  in  that  familiar, 
good-natured  way,  saying  that  sometime  national 
prejudices  would  be  wiped  out  and  the  people  of 
the  various  countries  would  come  to  see  each 
other's  viewpoints,  and  then  their  differences 
would  vanish  away.  I  hadn't  yet  seen  the  German 
at  his  worst.  The  time  would  come,  I  thought, 
when  all  would  fraternize  as  God  Intended  that 
they  should  and  this  wicked  rivalry  and  jealousy 
would  cease. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  even  my  fellow-Ameri- 
cans, along  with  the  French  and  other  nations, 
were  too  narrow  In  their  views  of  things,  and  that, 
they  were  equally  guilty  with  the  Germans  In 
falling  or  refusing  to  understand  the  minds  of 
other  people.  The  men  who  had  urged  inter- 
vention in  Mexico  and  intervention  in  Europe,  I 
took  It,  were  men  who  were  engaged  in  manu- 
facturing munitions,  or  who  were  directly  Inter- 
ested In  war  from  a  business  point  of  view.    They 


Back  From  Heir' 


wanted  dollars.  A  part  of  my  philosophy  was 
that  God  would  bring  about  a  settlement  of  all 
these  conflicts  In  His  own  good  time,  and  we  need 
not  worry  about  it.  Another  part  of  my  philos- 
ophy, so  it  happened,  was  pacifism.  I  was  a 
great  admirer  of  William  Jennings  Bryan,  and 
I  thought  his  peace  teaching  was — well  —  great 
stuff  I  I  had  interpreted  the  life  and  teaching  of 
Jesus  as  being  unalterably  opposed  to  violence 
of  any  kind.  No  matter  what  the  circumstance, 
bloodshed  could  not  be  justified.  "  Resist  not 
evir*  was  His  ideal  and,  therefore,  it  should  be 
mine  also,  and  as  I  look  at  it  now,  I  guess  I  went 
even  further  than  He  did,  in  my  theories  at  any 
rate.  For  He  did  use  violence  occasionally,  when 
it  was  necessary. 

"  If  a  man  smite  thee  on  one  cheek,  turn  the 
other  also,"  was  my  motto,  and  I  did  not  believe 
in  striking  back.  Tolstoi,  with  his  doctrine  of 
nonresistance,  from  whom  Mr.  Bryan  received 
large  Influence,  as  he  once  told  me,  was  my  Ideal 
man,  and  the  only  real  Christian  since  Jesus. 

I  had  also  said  there  would  never  be  another 
war;  a  war  of  any  size.  I  knew,  of  course,  that 
there  had  always  been  crusades  in  history,  and 
even  the  most  religious  people  had  killed  each 


A  Former  Pacifist 


other  by  thousands,  and  had  often  made  the 
claim  that  God  had  told  them  to  do  so,  but 
I  considered  them  to  have  been  misguided  fa- 
natics of  an  outgrown  age  who  may  have  thought 
they  were  doing  right,  but  who  were  in  reality 
committing  murder  and  breaking  God's  great 
law. 

My  father  had  also  been  a  minister,  and  he 
was  so  meek  and  peaceful  that  he  held  one 
pastorate  for  a  quarter  of  a  century,  a  thing 
which,  by  the  way,  I  doubt  If  I  shall  ever  do! 
He  was  Inclined  to  be  a  bit  pessimistic  and  to 
lament  the  heartless  struggle  which  takes  place 
all  through  nature  and  human  life,  and  he  was 
extremely  pacific.  I  inherited  the  same  traits.  My 
mother  also  had  been  a  peace-loving  woman,  but 
she  believed  in  justice,  and  I  think  I  Inherited 
from  her  my  aggressive  disposition.  I  was  such 
a  pacifist  that  I  was  militant  In  It  and  some- 
times alienated  even  my  admirers  by  my  doc- 
trine. 

However,  after  Europe  went  to  war  I  could 
see  the  storm  gathering  In  the  United  States,  and 
I  looked  upon  It  with  feelings  of  fear  and  fore- 
boding. I  was  down  In  the  depths.  I  felt  that 
"over  there"  they  were  already,  and  over  here 


Back  From  Hell 


it  was  likely  that  we   soon  would  be  violating 
God's  commandment, 

"THOU  SHALT  NOT  KILL." 

I  did  not  believe  in  killing.  I  had  lectured 
with  David  Starr  Jordan  and  spoken  with  Mr- 
Bryan.  I  hated  war.  As  a  minister  of  the  gospel 
my  natural  inclination  was  to  preach  gentle  for- 
giveness and  tender  mercy,  and  how  I  did  preach 
it  I  I  was  for  peace  at  any  price.  I  preached 
peace  in  my  church  and  I  preached  it  on  the 
street.  I  even  went  so  far  as  to  rent  halls  and 
denounce  the  doctrine  of  military  preparedness 
as  a  dangerous  and  vicious  propaganda. 

I  declared  with  all  my  power  that  America  ,, 
ought  to  keep  herself  out  of  this  war  and  that 
she  ought  to  suffer  any  indignity  rather  than  take 
up  the  sword  and  slay  other  people.  I  said  that 
was  murder.  While  not  approving  of  the  sink- 
ing of  the  merchant  ships,  yet  I  said  that  those 
people  who  traveled  on  belligerent  vessels  did, 
so  at  their  own  risk  and  that  the  United  States 
ought  not  to  bring  blood  upon  her  hands  because 
others  had  done  so.  I  had  no  antipathy  toward 
the  German  people.  I  liked  them.  I  had  shown 
this  by  studying  German  in  college  as  my  only  fof- 


A  Former  Pacifist 


eign  language.  I  joined  the  "  Deutscher  Verein" 
as  my  only  fraternity,  and  when  I  went  abroad  to 
study,  It  was  a  German  university  that  I  sought. 

I  knew  of  course  that  Germany's  military  system 
was  a  despotic  one  and  that  her  own  people  were 
virtually  slaves  to  the  government.  But  above  all 
I  cried  "  Peace  for  the  United  States  I ''  So  when  I 
resigned  my  pulpit  in  Patton,  Pa.,  and  told  my  con- 
gregation that  I  was  going  to  the  scene  of  war  In 
Belgium,  they  were  astonished  beyond  measure.  I 
hastened  to  reassure  them,  however,  that  the  pur- 
pose of  my  going  was  not  to  fight,  but  rather  to  re- 
lieve distress  and  carry  In  the  wounded.  I  had  felt 
a  call  to  take  up  this  task,  and  at  this  they  became 
somewhat  more  reconciled.  So  In  a  few  weeks' 
time  I  was  on  my  way. 

When  I  embarked  upon  that  great  ship  In  New 
York  I  was  alone.  And  I  want  to  tell  you  if  you 
have  never  gone  down  the  long  pier  and  walked  In 
solitude  up  the  gangplank  of  a  transatlantic  liner 
you  cannot  Imagine  the  feeling  of  loneliness  I  had. 
Especially  strong  was  this  feeling  because  that  ship 
was  to  take  me  to  the  hell  of  a  world  war  and  I 
did  not  know  to  what  else.  As  we  put  off  and 
glided  down  by  that  old  Statue  of  Liberty,  leaving 
it  in  the  distance,  I  began  to  cry,  for  I  didn't  know 


8  ''Back  From  Heir 

whether  I  should  ever  see  it  again.  It  seemed  as  if 
I  had  said  good-bye  to  my  last  friend.  Many  of  the 
people  aboard  were  foreigners  and  I  suppose  I 
looked  a  pathetic  figure  as  I  stood  there.  I  know  I 
felt  like  one. 

That  night  the  lights  were  doused  and  we  be- 
gan to  realize  that  things  were  serious.  When 
great  ships  sail  in  darkness  there  is  something 
wrong.  The  ensuing  voyage  lasted  ten  days  and 
when  I  was  not  walking  the  decks  those  days  I 
used  to  lie  in  my  berth  and  look  out  the  porthole 
and  often  wonder  what  was  ahead  for  me.  \ 

After  a  week  and  a  half  on  the  ocean  we  finally    j 
landed  on  the  coast  of  France.    Meanwhile  I  had    \ 
made  several  acquaintances,  mainly  with  French 
people,  and  I  had  begun  to  think  I  had  learned 
their  language.     A  rude  awakening  was  in  store 
for  me  before  I  had  been  in  France  an  hour  I 


CHAPTER  II 

RED  TAPE  IN  TRAVELING 

AS  WE  bumped  into  the  dock  at  Havre  I  was 
given  my  first  scare.  I  was  taken  in  charge 
by  a  French  soldier  who  wore  a  red  and  blue  cap,  a 
huge  overcoat  with  the  corners  buttoned  back,  and 
red  trousers  with  the  lower  parts  stuck  in  his  boots. 
These  things,  however,  did  not  have  any  particular 
interest  for  me;  not  that  I  was  an  indifferent  on- 
looker by  any  means,  but  the  thing  I  was  interested 
in  was  on  the  end  of  his  rifle;  the  big  shining  steel 
bayonet,  which  to  me  had  a  most  vicious  aspect. 
It  was  sixteen  inches  long  but  I  thought  it  looked 
like  sixteen  feet. 

Without  losing  any  time  this  mian  took  me  over 
to  the  Registration  Department,  where  another 
man  asked  me  a  lot  of  fool  questions,  scanned  my 
passport,  and  finally  gave  me  a  permit  of  some 
kind  or  other.  I  then  asked  him  what  time  the 
train  went  to  Paris.  "One  minute,"  he  said  in 
French.  I  thought  I'd  have  to  hustle,  but  he  was 
very  deliberate.     He  filled  out  a  printed  blank, 

9 


lo  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

taking  five  minutes  to  do  so  and  then  handed  it  to 
me,  saying  in  English,  *^Zis  will  give  you  ze  per- 
mission to  inquire  what  time  ze  train  goes  to 
Parees.''  From  that  moment  on  my  stay  in  Eu- 
rope, as  I  now  look  back  upon  it,  was  one  continu- 
ous performance  of  asking  for,  and  getting,  or 
being  refused,  permits  to  go  somewhere  or  to 
come  somewhere  or  to  remain  somewhere. 

Now  time,  money,  and  patience  were  all  limited 
assets  with  me,  but  the  European  officials  did  not 
seem  to  realize  this  or  else  were  very  inconsiderate. 
They  wasted  half  my  time,  extracted  at  least  two- 
thirds  of  my  money,  and  absolutely  exhausted  my 
patience.  At  risk  of  having  my  name  instantly 
recommended  for  membership  in  the  Ananias 
Club,  I  will  defiantly  state  that  I  had  to  have  five 
different  kinds  of  papers  on  my  person  to  allow  me 
to  start  for  Paris,  to  get  to  Paris,  to  remain  In 
Paris,  to  be  Identified  In  Paris,  and  to  drive  an 
automobile  In  Paris.  If  I  slipped  a  cog  anywhere 
I  was  lost.  They  say  a  chain  Is  no  stronger  than 
Its  weakest  link,  and  I  had  to  possess  every  link 
In  this  chain  of  paper. 

I  remember  one  fellow  who  had  lost  his  per- 
mit to  come  to  Paris.  When  he  passed  his  ex- 
amination for  a  driver's  license,  the  old  fossil  in 


I 


Red  Tape  in  Traveling  1 1 

charge  would  not  give  it  to  him.  As  I  understood 
the  matter,  the  theory  was  that  he  could  not  pos- 
sibly be  in  Paris  at  the  time  as  he  could  show  no 
paper  allowing  him  to  come.  And  let  me  say  in 
passing,  some  of  these  papers  come  high.  I  have 
figured  it  all  up  many  times,  and  as  near  as  I  can 
estimate,  the  papers,  all  told,  which  I  had  to  take 
out  during  my  European  stay,  set  me  back  about 
fifty  pounds,  five  shillings  and  four  pence,  or  in 
the  neighborhood  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars. 
It  seemed  as  though  every  time  I  turned  around 
some  fellow  was  extending  to  me  a  handful  of 
papers  and  an  empty  palm.  But  relieving  me  of 
money  was  not  all.  The  red  tape  connected  with 
it  was  what  worried  me  most.  Before  I  could  re- 
ceive the  particular  permit  I  wanted,  I  usually  had 
to  take  another  paper  over  to  another  man  and 
swear  to  a  lot  of  things  and  get  his  O.  K.  upon  it. 
This  went  hard  with  me  because  Fm  not  used  to 
swearing.    Tm  a  preacher. 

In  my  experience  the  application  was  a  more 
formidable  thing  than  the  permit  itself,  and  then 
after  I  finally  received  the  permit  I  had  to  take  it 
down  to  the  Prefect  of  Police  and  have  it  regis- 
tered before  evening.  If  this  was  neglected  my 
permit  was  invalidated  and  the  whole  perform- 


12  ''Back  From  Heir' 

ance  had  to  be  gone  over  again  next  day.  After 
the  permit  was  registered  I  had  to  bring  back  the 
voucher  of  registration  and  deposit  It  with  the  man 
who  Issued  the  permit. 

The  reason  for  all  this  Is  that  every  nation  in 
the  war  takes  It  for  granted  that  every  foreigner 
is  a  spy,  until  he  Is  proved  not  to  be,  and  every  na- 
tion not  In  the  war  thinks  all  visitors  are  trying  to 
get  them  to  violate  their  neutrality  and  thus  get 
them  into  the  war.  I  will  admit,  however,  that  deal- 
ing with  neutral  diplomats  Is  a  lot  easier  than  deal- 
ing with  the  belligerents. 

Then  also  you  have  to  remember  a  great  many 
passwords.  If  you  go  out  of  Paris  you  are  given  a 
password,  after  proving  your  right  to  receive  the 
same,  and  you  can't  get  in  again  until  you  give  it. 
If  you  happen  to  go  to  another  town  or  city  on  the 
same  trip,  the  same  thing  happens,  only  the  pass- 
word Is  different  and  all  of  them  change  every  day. 
So  It  Is  not  hard  to  Imagine  something  of  the  in- 
tricate system  which  Is  kept  up,  and  the  confusing 
details  which  are  required  In  order  to  get  from  one 
place  to  another  and  back  again.  Of  course.  If  you 
absolutely  forget  or  lose  the  password,  there  are 
other  alternatives  but  they  require  a  tremendous 
lot  of  red  tape.    You  can  hunt  up  the  proper  offi- 


Red  Tape  in  Traveling  13 

cial,  wait  until  he  is  at  leisure,  perhaps  two  hours, 
tell  him  about  your  unfortunate  predicament,  pre- 
sent all  your  papers,  and  after  convincing  him  that 
you  are  entitled  to  the  password  you  may  receive 
it  from  him  if  he  is  willing  to  give  it  to  you. 

I  traveled  in  Europe  before  the  war  and  it  irri- 
tated me  as  it  does  most  Americans,  to  be  com- 
pelled incessantly  to  register  my  name  and  address, 
age,  occupation,  place  of  birth,  and  the  same  de- 
tails of  my  father  and  mother,  place  of  entering 
the  country  and  length  of  time  I  had  been  there; 
but  this  was  nothing  compared  to  the  formalities 
and  the  irritating  requirements  of  the  present  time. 
French  officials  try  to  be  as  accommodating  and 
polite  as  possible,  but  if  you  object  to  any  point, 
they  tell  you  with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  that 
they  must  live  up  to  the  regulations  and  that  they 
must  be  very  careful,  as  the  country  is  full  of  spies 
and  peace  propagandists. 

If  you  travel  at  all  through  the  country  by  auto- 
mobile, you  have  to  come  to  a  halt  at  every  cross- 
road and  every  bridge.  Patrols  with  rifles  are  sta- 
tioned at  these  places  and  the  man  who  tried  to  run 
by  one  of  these  would  be  shot  down  instantly.  You 
are  required  to  produce  all  your  papers,  which  are 
scanned  by  the  guards,  who,  if  satisfied,  will  then 


14  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

let  you  drive  on  in  peace  until  you  come  to  the  next 
guarded  point.  If  the  guards  are  not  satisfied,  you 
sheepishly  turn  your  car  around,  go  back  to  Paris, 
get  your  papers  rectified,  or  get  additional  ones  and 
strike  out  again.  You  often  lose  hours  of  time  and, 
not  infrequently,  days  as  well,  in  getting  the  re- 
quired permits.  You  get  angry  at  first,  but  it  does 
no  good  and  you  may  as  well  quickly  learn  to  keep 
your  temper,  for  when  you  think  it  all  over  you  will 
realize  that  when  such  a  vital  issue  is  at  stake,  every 
possible  precaution  must  be  taken. 


CHAPTER  III 

HOW   I   GOT   INTO   THE   SERVICE 

MY  FIRST  formal  call  when  I  got  to  Paris 
was  upon  Ambassador  Sharp.  This,  how- 
ever, was  not  until  I  had  been  in  the  city  several 
days.  I  had  become  acquainted  on  the  ship  with  a 
party  of  Serbians  who  had  been  mining  up  in  Alaska 
and  were  now  going  back  to  fight  the  Austrians. 
They  had  some  difficulty  and  delay  in  arranging 
their  passports,  so  I  remained  with  them  until  they 
got  away. 

When  at  last  I  called  on  Mr.  Sharp  and  told 
him  I  wanted  to  go  to  Belgium,  he  asked  me  why 
I  didn't  stay  and  do  relief  work  in  France.  He 
informed  me  that  I  would  not  be  allowed  to  go  to 
Belgium  anyway,  as  the  German  Government  had 
already  required  the  United  States  to  withdraw 
many  of  the  consuls.  He  said  my  work  was 
needed  there  in  France.  Of  course  I  agreed  with 
him — under  the  circumstances  I  Acting  upon  his 
suggestion  and  with  his  letter  of  endorsement  I 
went  to  Neuilly  and  applied  for  work  in  the  now 

IS 


i6 '' Back  From  Heir 

well-known  American  Ambulance.  I  was  ac- 
cepted almost  immediately  and  then  I  carefully  re- 
moved my  frock  coat  and  folded  it  up.  Without 
delay  I  received  a  uniform  and  equipment  and  set 
to  work.  The  outfit  was  issued  to  me  free,  although 
men  with  plenty  of  money  had  to  pay  for  theirs. 
I  remember  having  my  picture  taken  in  uniform 
and  sending  it  to  my  parishioners  in  the  States, 
who  wrote  back  and  told  me  of  the  interest  and 
comment  it  caused  when  shown  at  a  church  social. 
From  the  outset  we  were  very  busy.  I  was  put 
on  the  base  or  Paris  squad  in  the  beginning,  as  most 
all  of  the  new  men  were,  temporarily,  and  the  very 
first  night  I  was  sent  out  with  a  Swiss  Frenchman 
to  a  depot  at  Aubervilliers,  which  was  being  used 
as  a  receiving  hospital.  There  on  the  floor  of  that 
great  building  many  hundreds  of  wounded  soldiers 
lay  mutilated  and  suffering.  Some  had  their  jaws 
blown  off.  Others  had  eyes  or  noses  gone.  I  shall 
never  forget  that  dreary  night.  There  was  a  cold 
rain  driving  and  I  was  soaked  to  the  skin,  but 
there  were  many  human  beings  who  suffered  worse 
than  I  did  for  their  country's  sake.  When  I  saw 
one  man  who  had  been  hit  by  a  German  dumdum 
or  explosive  bullet,  I  gritted  my  teeth.  We  were 
kept  working  all  night  transporting  those  poor 


How  I  Got  into  the  Service  ij 

fellows  in  Ford  ambulances  from  the  railroad 
station  to  the  different  hospitals,  as  the  French 
officers  instructed.  On  each  trip  we  carried  three 
lying-down  cases,  or  if  the  wounded  could  sit  up  we 
conveyed  five.  For  some  time  thereafter  this  was 
our  main  work. 

But  after  several  weeks  had  passed,  the  winter 
began  to  break  and  with  it  the  spring  offensive 
opened  up.  I  was  with  section  two  of  the  Ambu- 
lance, later  called  section  Y,  and  a  very  capable 
man  from  the  Middle  West,  was  in  charge  as 
commander.  This  section  had  been  stationed  at 
Beauvais,  doing  local  duty  mainly,  but  occasionally 
working  up  toward  the  Soissons  Sector  and  on  a 
line  directly  south  of  Ypres,  afterward  being  trans- 
ferred to  the  East.  The  wounded,  whom  we  car- 
ried, were  little  more  than  bundles  of  mud  and  rain- 
soaked,  blood-stained  masses  of  human  pulp.  Most 
of  them  were  French  soldiers,  we  being  with  the 
French  forces,  but  we  did  have  also  quite  a  num- 
ber of  British  Tommies  and  still  more  Belgians. 
I  shall  always  think  of  those  Belgians  as  such 
plucky  fellows.  No  matter  how  badly  wounded 
they  were,  as  a  rule  when  we  talked  with  them, 
and  spoke  about  getting  the  "Allemands"  or  the 
"  Boches  "  or  the  "  Kaiser  "  they  would  double  up 


1 8  ''Back  From  Heir 

their  fists  and  jocularly  show  fight  by  hitting  him 
an  imaginary  undercut,  or  they  would  draw  their 
open  hands  across  their  throats  and  say,  ''The 
Kaiser  Kaput!" 

At  first  I  liked  the  Belgians  best.  One  night  we 
carried  a  Belgian  soldier  who  had  both  legs  and 
both  arms  fractured,  and  every  time  we  made  a 
move  he  must  have  suffered  the  tortures  of  hell,  yet 
never  a  sound  came  from  him.  In  fact  their 
stoicism  was  remarkable;  hardly  ever  was  there 
any  groaning  or  complaining. 

But  as  time  went  on  and  we  became  better  ac- 
quainted with  the  French  disposition,  through  inti- 
mate contact  with  French  individuals,  we  liked 
them  better.  At  first,  I  had  not  cared  much  for 
the  French.  I  am  ashamed  to  say  it  now,  as  it  was 
my  own  lack  of  appreciation,  but  when  my  eyes  at 
last  were  opened,  my  regard  for  them  became  high 
and  lasting. 

One   day   after  a   terrible  bombardment  near 

S ,  a  hlesse  or  wounded  soldier,  whom  we  had 

carried  back  to  the  hospital  said,  ''  Comrade,  I  love 
ithe  Americans."  I  did  not  reply  at  once.  He  con- 
tinued, "Do  you  love  the  French?"  "Yes,"  I 
said,  "  I  have  come  to  love  them  very  deeply.  At 
first  I  did  not  know  about  it  but  now  I  do."  He  lay 


How  I  Got  into  the  Service  19 

very  still  and  white,  and  after  a  moment  said,  "  Mu- 
tual understanding  is  the  basis  of  love,"  and  then 
he  went  to  sleep.     He  never  woke  up. 

Many  a  poor  mangled  poilu  who  was  just  about 
to  "go  West"  spoke  in  the  same  strain,  and  I 
came  to  realize  that  the  old  love  for  America  which 
LaFayette  had  kindled  over  a  century  before,  still 
lurked  in  the  heart  of  France.  America  threw  off 
the  tyrant's  yoke  in  1776,  and  France  threw  off  the 
despot's  chains  in  1789,  and  thirteen  years  is  a 
very  small  difference  in  ages  between  brothers,  na- 
tionally speaking.  Since  then  both  Republics  have 
made  a  lot  of  mistakes  and  rectified  many  of  them, 
but  let  it  be  said  both  have  made  marvelous  rec- 
ords in  the  development  of  democratic  government 
and  they  are  now  working  and  fighting  side  by 
side,  comrades  in  the  cause  of  human  liberty. 


CHAPTER  IV 

A  UNIT  IN  ITS  INFANCY 

THE  Story  of  the  American  Ambulance  Serv- 
ice has  been  written  by  abler  pens  than  mine 
and  so  I  will  give  but  a  brief  account  of  it. 

When  the  war  first  began  the  idea  of  serving 
France  through  ambulance  work  was  con- 
ceived by  a  few  large-visioned  Americans.  The 
plant  of  the  fine  new  boys'  school  called  the  "  Lycee 
Pasteur"  was  turned  over  to  these  men  for  the 
ambulance  headquarters.  The  beginnings  had 
been  small,  Henry  Ford  having  donated  in  19 14 
ten  ambulances  with  which  the  movement  started. 
Early  in  the  next  year,  however,  the  American  Am- 
bulance institution  became  attached  to  the  French 
forces  which  were  in  active  service.  The  work  of 
the  preceding  months  was  quite  essential  in  its  way, 
as  its  errors  no  doubt  pointed  out  the  path  to  the 
later  efficiency,  and  a  larger  number  of  ambulances 
were  being  accumulated  from  week  to  week.  The 
first  donation  of  machines  made  it  possible  for  the 
organization  at  the  very  beginning  to  participate 

20 


A  Unit  in  Its  Infancy  21 

in  the  transport  work,  and  the  ever  Increasing  num- 
ber of  cars  necessitated  the  forming  of  squads  in 
the  endeavor  to  broaden  the  scope  of  the  service. 
There  were  at  first  five  ambulances  In  each 
squad  and  these  were  loaned  to  the  French  forces, 
but  because  the  squads  were  so  small  they  were 
used  by  the  French  to  supplement  the  regular  gov- 
ernment sections  which  were  already  in  action  be- 
hind the  lines.  Their  chief  work  was  that  of  hos- 
pital evacuation,  which  it  was  soon  perceived  could 
be  performed  more  advantageously  by  the  heavier 
ambulances  of  the  sections  which  had  been  working 
at  these  hospitals  before.  But  in  the  early  spring 
a  change  was  made  in  the  organization  of  the 
American  service  and  a  new  man  was  given  charge. 
Through  his  Influence  the  French  officials  gave  the 
American  Ambulance  Service  a  trial  on  the  firing 
line.  A  section  was  dispatched  to  the  Vosges 
which  soon  gained  the  recognition  of  its  com- 
manders, who  requested  that  It  be  doubled  in  size. 
When  this  request  was  complied  with,  the  section 
moved  to  the  front  In  Alsace,  in  connection  with 
a  similar  French  section.  Very  soon  after  another 
section  of  the  same  size  was  organized  and  sent  to 
Pont-a-Mousson,  connected  also,  as  the  former  one 
had  been,  with  a  French  section.    During  this  time 


22  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

also  a  squad  had  been  stationed  at  Dunkirk  in 
northern  France. 

The  American  Field  Service  was  at  last  a  reality. 
These  three  sections  now  began  to  make  history 
and  demonstrated  considerable  usefulness  to  the 
cause.  The  Americans  in  Alsace  took  over  the 
dressing  station  on  the  battle  line,  and  soon  found 
themselves  caring  for  an  entire  region,  which  be- 
came famous  for  its  baptism  of  fire. 

The  section  at  Pont-a-Mousson  has  an  enviable 
record.  When  it  first  went  to  Pont-a-Mousson  the 
French  service  which  was  already  stationed  there 
was  amalgamated  with  It.  Later  on  this  section 
made  the  mountain  dressing  stations  possible, 
which  heretofore  had  been  quite  Impossible.  The 
section  at  Dunkirk  had  been  engaged  In  caring  for 
the  wounded  from  air  raids  and  from  bombard- 
ments by  the  Germans  almost  twenty  miles  away. 
This  section  was  now  honored  by  being  doubled 
again  and  given  work  to  do  at  several  Important 
points  along  the  battle  line,  and  with  the  French 
army  In  Belgium. 

All  the  sections  now  became  of  acknowledged 
value  and  In  a  remarkably  short  period  their  prac- 
tical possibilities  were  recognized.  Wherever  pos- 
sible the  French  sections  were  speedily  removed 


AMERICAN  AMBULANCE  HEADQUARTERS, 
NEUILLY,  FRANCE. 

This  magnificent  building  was  its  first  home. 


^"^M^^y%                    ^M 

Ifj^p 

^^a 

m 

AMBULANCES  READY  TO  LEAVE  FOR  THE  FRONT. 


'A  Unit  in  Its  Infancy  23 

and  the  whole  work  given  over  to  the  American 
units.  No  car  could  have  been  chosen  for  ambu- 
lance service  which  was  better  fitted  for  it  than  the 
Ford.  The  mud  is  the  greatest  problem  around 
Dunkirk,  but  it  was  no  barrier  to  the  Ford.  The 
large  supply  trucks  at  Pont-a-Mousson  were  out- 
stripped by  the  Fords,  and  the  slow  and  somewhat 
clumsy  mules  In  Alsace  were  superseded  by  them. 
The  drivers  were  largely  college  men  from  Yale, 
Harvard,  Princeton,  Columbia,  and  other  univer- 
sities, who  put  great  action  and  inspiration  into 
the  service.  Later  on  the  section  from  Dunkirk 
was  sent  up  to  the  Aisne.  The  section  at  Pont-a- 
Mousson  went  to  Verdun,  and  that  in  Alsace  was 
sent  over  to  Pont-a-Mousson.  Several  other  sec- 
tions were  also  organized  and  played  a  most  im- 
portant part  in  transporting  the  wounded  of  the 
Allies. 

From  the  very  first  day  of  mobilization  it  had 
been  a  terrible  problem  for  the  French,  who 
needed  every  last  man  to  fight  the  enemy,  to  spare 
enough  to  care  for  those  who  were  wounded  in  the 
fighting.  This  is  most  important  work,  as  it  means 
the  getting  of  the  wounded  men  into  shape  as 
quickly  as  possible,  so  they  can  be  put  into  the 
fighting  line  again.     The  world  knows  that  from 


24  ''Back  From  Heir' 

the  first  the  man  power  of  the  French  Republic  has 
been  strained  to  its  capacity  and  the  French  wel- 
comed with  joy  the  aid  which  the  Americans  offered 
in  this  direction.  It  released  many  of  their  own 
men  and  furnished  many  cars  which  otherwise 
they  would  have  had  to  supply  themselves,  di- 
verting them  from  the  most  vital  points.  The  taxi- 
cab  army  which  Paris  sent  out  in  the  first  days  of 
the  war  was  not  equipped  for  ambulance  work, 
and  so  from  that  time  on,  for  almost  three  years, 
the  men  and  ambulances  from  America  were  uti- 
lized and  welcomed  with  enthusiasm. 

The  French  will  never  forget  and  certainly  the 
Americans  will  remember  with  pride  the  assistance 
they  were  able  to  render  in  the  days  when  the  lib- 
erty and  existence  of  the  nation  hung  by  a  patheti- 
cally slender  thread. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  NORTHWEST  FRONT  —  MUD  I 

THE  section  which  had  been  at  Dunkirk  and 
in  Flanders  had  some  interesting  experi- 
ences. The  larger  part  of  the  time  the  boys  were 
put  up  in  stables  and  slept  on  straw  or  in  the  ambu- 
lances. They  had  gone  out  in  the  early  spring 
and  were  detailed  to  work  around  Dunkirk  carry- 
ing the  blesses  from  the  freight  depot  to  the  sev- 
eral hospitals  as  the  French  authorities  directed. 
Working  In  mud  under  air  raids  and  long  range 
bombardments  was  not  unusual  to  them. 

The  history  of  the  northwest  front  Is  a  history 
of  men  in  mud.  From  Dunkirk  to  Verdun  and 
much  farther,  this  ugly  nightmare  tears  the  soul. 
[The  world  has  heard  of  the  mud  In  Flanders,  long 
ere  this,  and  I  believe  this  war  has  done  more  to 
advertise  the  real  estate  of  that  country  than  any- 
thing else  could  do.  I  suppose  the  people  of  the 
Western  Hemisphere  never  knew  there  was  so 
much  mud  In  the  world.  I  know  I  never  did.  And 
Flanders  Is  not  the  only  place  that  has  It  either. 

*5 


26  ''Back  From  Heir 

That  entire  front  Is  blessed  with  it  extending  two 
hundred  miles  long  and  almost  two  feet  deep.  If 
I  had  unlimited  time  I  would  figure  up  just  how 
much  mud  there  was.  We  think  we  have  mud  in 
America,  Missouri  boasts  of  most  of  it,  and  has 
thus  become  proverbial.  I  once  read  of  an  old 
colonel  who  was  riding  along  on  his  horse  one  day 
in  Missouri  during  the  Civil  War  when  he  saw  an 
old  hat  lying  in  the  mud  on  the  side  of  the  road. 
Strange  to  say,  the  hat  kept  revolving,  first  one 
way  and  then  the  other.  The  colonel's  curiosity 
finally  got  the  better  of  him  and  he  dismounted 
and  went  over  to  where  the  hat  was  lying.  Giving 
it  a  kick  he  discovered  a  private's  head  under  It 
smiling  up  at  him  graciously.  *'  Well,  my  man," 
said  the  colonel,  "you'll  pardon  me,  but  can  I  do 
anything  to  help  you  ?  You  seem  to  be  In  a  pretty 
bad  way."  "Oh,  yes,"  answered  the  private,  "but 
as  for  myself,  I'll  make  out  all  right,  for  I  can 
breathe.  It's  not  myself  I'm  worrying  about,  but 
the  horse  that's  under  me  sure  Is  In  a  bad  way." 
I  thought  of  this  story  a  thousand  times  while 
over  there,  and  I  think  I  told  It  at  least  half  that 
number  of  times.  The  mud  In  the  spring  is  so 
thick  that  It  oppresses  one.  It  gets  on  your  mind 
as  well  as  on  your  body.    A  person  who  only  has 


i 


The  Northwest  Front  —  Mud!  27 

an  occasional  trip  may  laugh  at  it,  but  when  one 
drives  through  it  day  and  night,  and  night  and  day 
for  weeks  the  humor  of  It  all  wears  off.  It  be- 
comes a  mighty  serious  affair.  In  many  places  it 
is  thick  and  sticky  like  bread  dough  and  piles  up 
on  your  wheels  or  feet  making  It  almost  Impossible 
to  move.  The  clay,  or  gumbo,  in  America  cannot 
compare  with  It.  It  Is  whitish  gray  In  color  and 
even  when  It  Is  not  heavy  It  Is  exceedingly  dis- 
agreeable. It  splashes  on  your  clothes  and  flies 
in  your  eyes.  It  gets  Into  your  ears,  your  nose, 
and  your  hair,  and  not  Infrequently  Into  your  mouth 
if  you  talk  or  laugh  too  much.  It  has  a  resem- 
blance to  gray  paint  and  partakes  very  much  of 
Its  nature.  Once  it  gets  on  your  clothes  It  is  im- 
possible to  get  It  off  and  It  even  sticks  to  and  stains 
your  flesh  so  that  it  requires  hard  scrubbing  with 
soap  and  hot  water  to  remove  It.  Yet  when  It 
splashes  you  In  this  manner  It  Is  pleasant  —  com- 
pared to  the  discouraging  effect  when  it  Is  heavy  1 
One  day  when  I  was  going  to  a  shop  with  an 
empty  car  for  some  repairs,  I  met  my  old  antago- 
nist, French  mud.  It  was  the  genuine  article  this 
time  too,  the  kind  that  gets  a  hold  and  doesn't  let 
go.  I  was  turning  out  of  the  road  to  allow  a 
camion  to  go  by  but  In  my  eagerness  to  avoid  it  I 


28  ''Back  From  Heir' 

swerved  an  inch  too  far.  Little  by  little  I  felt 
the  back  end  of  my  car  sliding  off  the  road  so  I 
threw  in  low  speed  and  opened  the  gas.  The 
front  wheels  stayed  on  the  higher  ground  but  the 
rear  wheels  seemed  to  be  trying  to  catch  up  with 
them  and  finally  did  so,  but  when  they  did,  they 
pulled  the  whole  car  off  into  the  gutter  which  was 
not  steep  but  oh,  so  muddy.  I  labored  and  strug- 
gled with  the  gas  and  the  low  speed.  I  groaned 
and  swore,  I  stalled  my  engine  and  got  out  to 
crank  it,  and  when  I  did  I  couldn't  get  in  again. 
I  used  up  ten  minutes  in  getting  my  feet  out  of  that 
mud  and  getting  them  cleaned  up.  I  tried  it  again 
but  it  was  no  use,  the  car  would  not  come,  for  it 
was  stuck.  That  was  the  only  explanation  there 
was,  it  was  stuck  in  French  mud.  Not  having  any 
chains  I  tried  to  put  sticks  and  boards  under  the 
wheels  and  I  succeeded  but  they  went  so  far  under 
that  I  could  not  see  what  became  of  them.  I  finally 
began  pulling  a  farmer's  rail  fence  to  pieces  in  my 
attempt  to  pry  out  the  wheels  and  get  a  founda- 
tion to  start  from,  but  at  last  I  had  to  walk  more 
than  a  mile  till  I  found  two  men  at  a  farmhouse 
who  came  down  with  a  heavy  team  to  pull  me  out. 
When  they  arrived  at  the  place  where  the  car  was 
stuck,  lo,  the  fence  which  I  had  dismantled  be- 


The  Northwest  Front  —  Mud!  29 

longed  to  one  of  the  men.  He  looked  at  me  with 
a  peculiar  expression.  I  thought  he  was  angry 
and  was  going  to  scold  me  and  demand  payment 
for  damage  to  his  property.  In  a  couple  of  sec- 
onds, however,  we  both  burst  out  into  a  hearty 
laugh  for  he  appreciated  the  situation  as  well  as  I. 
With  a  large  log  chain  looped  around  the  front 
axle  of  the  car  the  great  horses  put  their  necks 
into  the  collar  and  hauled  it  out.  The  men  would 
not  accept  a  cent  of  pay,  one  of  them  saying,  "  Not 
a  sou,  it*s  for  France." 


CHAPTER  VI 

A  WEIRD  NIGHT 

ONE  midnight  after  a  certain  engagement 
"  somewhere  in  France  "  in  which  many  men 
fell,  I  learned  of  an  experience  which  burned  its 
way  into  my  soul,  and  I  believe  will  stay  there  till 
the  Judgment  Day.  I  have  read  in  history  of  indi- 
viduals such  as  the  one  I  am  telling  of,  but  never 
In  my  life  have  I  had  actual  knowledge  of  any  but 
this  one,  and  I  hope  that  I  shall  hereafter  forever 
be  delivered  from  such. 

This  particular  night  the  firing  for  some  reason 
had  suddenly  ceased.  A  man  named  Valke  was 
an  emergency  watcher  at  a  listening  post,  when 
the  most  blood-curdling  thing  I  have  ever  known 
occurred. 

A  listening  post  is  a  branch  off  from  the  main 
trench  toward  the  enemy  or  In  his  general  direc- 
tion, which  is  dug  secretly  as  you  go,  the  dirt  being 
carried  back  In  bags  so  as  not  to  disclose  its  loca- 
tion. These  posts  must  be  changed  often,  as  the 
enemy  is  apt  to  discover  them,  and  then  look  out  I 

30 


A  Weird  Night  31 

Valke  was  standing  in  the  darkness  and  seclu- 
sion of  the  post  when  a  shriek  rent  the  air,  the 
sound  of  which  he  said  he  would  hear  through 
eternity.  It  came  from  a  man  who  was  prostrate 
on  the  ground.  He  had  noticed  the  body  lying 
there  before,  a  few  yards  away,  and  had  assumed 
that  the  man  was  dead.  He  was  a  Frenchman, 
and  on  account  of  the  darkness  could  be  seen  with 
difficulty.  But  he  was  not  dead,  only  unconscious, 
and  something  had  suddenly  revived  him. 

"O  God,''  he  cried,  "my  marriage  ring!" 
and  then  he  moaned  and  groaned  like  a  lost  soul  in 
agony.  Immediately  another  form  raised  up  to 
full  stature  and  looked  quickly  about.  Valke  had 
to  strain  his  eyes  to  see  him  and  he  trembled  with 
nervousness.  He  did  not  know  what  to  do  for  an 
instant.  The  man's  head  jerked  this  way  and  that. 
He  must  have  expected  someone  to  hear  the  cries 
and  groans  of  the  other  man,  and  evidently  was 
looking  around  for  watchers  or  listeners.  The 
Frenchman  kept  on  groaning,  and  the  man,  seem- 
ing to  fear  that  if  any  watchers  were  near,  they 
would  immediately  let  loose  upon  him,  started  to 
run.    Valke  kept  very  still  in  his  dark  post. 

Suddenly  the  fugitive  stopped.  He  turned  and 
ran  back  to  the  prostrate  Frenchman.    Valke  saw 


32 ''Back  From  Heir' 

the  gleam  of  a  knife  drawn  from  a  sheath.  It 
was  in  the  hand  of  the  apache.  In  an  instant  the 
horrid  thing  was  done  —  a  swift  movement  of  the 
arm,  a  flash,»  and  the  blade  plunged  into  the  body 
of  the  helpless  soldier  I  Then  silence :  silence  more 
terrible  than  the  groans  of  agony  that  it  stilled. 
Valke's  fists  clinched  by  instinct,  the  nails  cutting 
into  the  very  flesh  of  his  palms ;  and  then  his  right 
hand  went  to  the  holster  on  his  hip.  It  was  all 
too  plain:  the  hideous  vulture  of  the  battlefield 
knew  that  "  dead  men  tell  no  tales,"  and  that  the 
wounded  sometimes  recover  and  tell  things  that 
lead  to  fearful  reprisals  on  their  enemies.  More 
than  that:  wounded  men  cry  out  and  groan;  but 
the  dead  are  quiet.  The  knife  had  done  its  work: 
escape  might  be  surer  for  the  assassin.  That's  the 
logic  of  ghouls. 

Valke  drew  his  service  pistol,  but  hesitated  to 
fire.  To  do  so  might  betray  his  listening  post  and 
draw  the  enemy's  shrapnel;  it  might  be  fatal  to 
the  section.  In  the  second  that  Valke  cast  up  the 
chances,  he  heard  whisperings  from  another  lis- 
tening post.  The  ghoul  had  risen  and  was  slink- 
ing for  cover  when  the  crack  of  a  rifle  tore  a  gap 
in  the  stillness.  A  light  flashed  up  fifty  yards 
ahead.    Instinctively,  the  prowler  sought  the  cover 


A  Weird  Night  33 

of  a  bush  nearby  and  waited  for  the  lapse  of  atten- 
tion which  might  let  him  dash  to  safety.  A  sentry 
on  patrol  came  up,  passed,  and  vanished.  That 
was  the  apache's  chance  I  He  came  out  of  hiding 
and  skulked  along  the  entanglements  hoping  to  find 
an  alleyway  to  safety.  The  way  led  him  right  in 
front  of  Valke's  listening  post.  A  flash  lamp  shot 
its  beam  of  blinding  light  full  on  the  assassin's 
face. 

"Who  goes  there?"  challenged  Valke.  No 
answer. 

"Who  goes  there?"  .  .  .  Silence;  not  a 
sound. 

''QuiVivef'    .    .    .    No  reply.  ''Qui  Vive?" 

Then  Valke  pressed  the  trigger  and  with  a 
groan  the  apache  crumpled  up,  dead. 

"  For  a  minute,"  said  Valke  in  telling  me  the 
story,  "  the  thought  of  what  I  had  done  made  me 
shudder,  though  it  was  nothing  but  a  plain  matter 
of  army  duty.  The  man  had  been  challenged, 
well  knowing  the  penalty  of  war  for  silence.  And 
yet  —  I  had  killed  him  I  It  made  me  feel  faint.  But 
when  we  examined  the  body  it  was  all  right  again 
inside  of  me.  That  German  held  In  his  hand  a 
bleeding  human  finger,  still  at  blood  heat,  and 


34  ''Back  From  Heir 

around  that  finger  was  a  marriage  ring!  In  his 
pocket  he  had  an  emblem  pin  and  a  gold  watch  and 
chain;  and  on  his  own  finger  a  diamond  ring  —  all 
snatched  from  the  dead  or  dying  bodies  of  men 
who  had  made  the  supreme  sacrifice  for  France  I 
Who  could  pity  such  a  vile  ghoul  as  he  ?  " 

From  that  hour  I  believe  my  transformation 
began.  I  thought  of  my  sacred  calling,  the  min- 
istry. My  church  at  home  flashed  into  my  mind. 
What  would  people  think?  How  would  I  stand 
in  the  eyes  of  God?  I  reflected  on  my  former 
teachings  and  beliefs.  Could  I  face  my  friends,  to 
whom  I  had  preached  peace  and  gentleness,  now 
that  I  had  applauded  violence  and  war?  Was 
it  right  or  justifiable?  My  mind  was  very  much 
perturbed  and  I  was  extremely  nervous.  A  proc- 
ess of  moral  regeneration  of  my  ideas  was  going 
on.  This,  I  now  believe,  to  be  as  important  as  a 
man's  spiritual  conversion,  and  step  by  step  this 
book  unfolds  the  process  in  my  life.  I  stood  at  an 
hour  of  decision.  I  faced  life.  Its  issues  must  be 
met.  Here  In  the  presence  of  death  I  had  my 
supreme  struggle.  Time  divided  I  The  roads 
parted.  Eternity  was  ahead.  Where  was  I  ?  I 
was  In  hell !  Right  then  it  surrounded,  enveloped, 
engulfed  me.    The  hour  was  freighted  with  des- 


A  Weird  Night  35 

tiny.  Then  came  a  sudden  high  resolve.  '*  I  must 
take  the  path  of  right  and  duty,  wherever  it  may 
lead,  e'en  *  though  I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death,  Thou  art  with  me.'  Duty  may  re- 
quire violence  and  war."  My  pacifism  began  to 
fade  away,  as  I  saw  visions  of  mutilated  men. 
Then  all  went  black. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE    RED    CROSS 

CARING  for  men,  not  only  those  who  are 
wounded,  but  for  those  who  are  sick  or  in 
trouble  as  well,  the  Red  Cross  is  without  a  doubt 
the  greatest  relief  organization  in  the  world  today. 
It  is  so  far-reaching  in  its  scope  that  it  does  not 
stop  with  the  soldiers,  but  includes  also  in  its  min- 
istrations indirect  victims  of  war  —  the  widows, 
the  fatherless,  the  aged  left  desolate,  the  homeless, 
and  the  refugees  of  every  age  and.condition  of  life. 
Heretofore  some  people  have  had  a  wrong  impres- 
sion of  this  great  agency,  thinking  that  it  minis- 
tered merely  to  unfortunate  men  on  the  battle  field. 
This  is  far  from  being  the  case,  however.  It  holds 
out  its  hand  of  hope  and  help  to  many  other  thou- 
sands who  would  languish  in  hopelessness  and  de- 
spair but  for  its  kindly  succor. 

To  be  sure  in  war  time  the  most  critical  point 
of  all  is  the  battle  line.  And  the  most  important 
man  Is  the  soldier.  He  must  be  kept  fit  to  do  his 
work  or  all  else  fails.    Therefore  naturally  enough 

36 


The  Red  Cross  37 


the  Red  Cross,  or  Croix  Rouge  as  it  is  called  in 
France,  focuses  Its  attention  mainly  on  the  fighting 
men.  The  problem  of  caring  for  the  wounded 
in  the  present  conflict  is  so  different  and  so  much 
more  vast  than  in  any  previous  war  that  a  com- 
parison is  well  nigh  impossible.  Back  in  our  Civil 
War  there  was  no  Red  Cross  organization  and 
the  facilities  for  attending  to  the  needs  of  the  in- 
jured and  the  sick  were  extremely  limited  to  say 
the  least.  Consequently  while  we  did  the  best  we 
could,  hours  and  days  often  passed,  before  a 
wounded  soldier  could  be  attended  to,  and  many 
deaths  ensued  which  would  be  avoided  today.  In 
fact  the  mortality  percentage  was  immensely  higher 
than  in  the  present  war.  This  sounds  almost  un- 
believable in  view  of  the  many  fearful  devices 
which  the  Germans  have  used  and  the  constant 
reports  of  awful  carnage.  But  when  we  base  our 
death  estimates  upon  the  actual  number  of  men 
engaged  the  face  of  the  situation  changes  very  ma- 
terially. We  must  remember  that  even  in  time  of 
peace  in  civil  life  among  twenty  million  men  there 
will  be  thousands  of  deaths  each  day  and  the 
chances  of  saving  a  sick  or  wounded  man  are  far 
greater  today  than  ever  before. 

The    marvelous    Red    Cross    institution    has 


38  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

sought  out  the  best  physicians  and  surgeons  of 
every  country  and  the  most  efficient  nurses  as  aids; 
and  by  research  investigation  and  experiments 
has  brought  down  to  the  finest  point  that  science 
has  yet  attained  the  matter  of  saving  life.  Any 
person  who  has  had  anything  whatever  to  do  with 
this  great  agency  will  testify  to  its  marvelous  skill 
and  efficiency. 

Moreover,  aside  from  its  merely  utiUtarian 
aspect,  there  goes  with  the  Red  Cross  Angel  in 
Europe  that  sentimental  sweetness  and  that  deli- 
cate touch  which  is  so  treasured  by  the  heart  of 
every  soldier.  It  Is  the  beginning,  by  the  greatest 
Mother  in  the  world  of  the  fulfillment  of  the 
prophecy  of  Jesus,  *'  I  was  hungry,  and  ye  gave 
me  to  eat;  I  was  thirsty,  and  ye  gave  me  drink;  I 
was  a  stranger,  and  ye  took  me  in;  naked,  and  ye 
clothed  me ;  I  was  sick,  and  ye  visited  me ;  I  was  in 
prison,  and  ye  came  unto  me ;  verily  I  say  unto  you, 
Inasmuch  as  ye  did  it  unto  one  of  these  my  breth- 
ren, even  these  least,  ye  did  it  unto  me."  In  this 
way  real  religion  Is  practiced  in  the  trenches.  In 
this  way  Is  that  new  Christianity  taking  shape  In 
Europe  which  Is  to  be  the  religion  of  the  future 
In  America. 

Another  of  the  great  movements  for  the  uplift 


Copyright,   Underwood  &  Underwood,  N.   Y. 


AN  AMERICAN  WOMAN  CARING  FOR  A  LITTLE 
WOUNDED  FRENCH  CHILD. 


The  Red  Cross  39 


and  welfare  of  the  soldiers  is  the  Y.  M.C.  A.  It 
has  long  been  recognized  that  there  are  many 
strong  and  peculiar  temptations  in  the  life  of  a  sol- 
dier which  do  not  come  to  people  in  the  ordinary 
walks  of  life.  The  first  of  these  is  the  temptation 
to  homesickness.  With  armies  from  all  over  the 
world  concentrated  in  France,  and  with  millions  of 
boys  for  the  first  time  in  their  lives  separated  from 
their  old  associates  and  environments  and  set  down 
in  the  midst  of  a  new  atmosphere  among  people  of 
a  foreign  tongue  and  different  habits  and  modes 
of  living,  it  would  be  strange,  Indeed,  if  they  did 
not  have  a  longing  for  home,  old  acquaintances, 
and  familiar  faces.  Companionship  and  sympathy 
are  the  things  they  need  above  all  else.  Confiden- 
tial relations  between  themselves  and  those  whom 
they  can  call  friends  is  worth  everything,  and 
this  is  exactly  what  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  establishes. 
It  counteracts,  If  not  entirely  in  large  part  at  any 
rate,  the  tendency  toward  homesickness.  In  a  land 
which  Is  strange,  where  there  are  no  acquaintances 
and  no  home  atmosphere,  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  secre- 
taries and  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  huts  furnish  the  only 
touch  of  home  that  the  soldier  has.  Here  he 
comes  when  tired  and  beaten  and  spent  with  war; 
here  his  footsteps  turn  when  his  soul  longs  for  an 


40  ''Back  From  Heir 

association  which  money  cannot  buy.  Here  he 
finds  exactly  what  he  needs,  namely  other  boys 
who  are  lonely  too  and  who  are  seeking  the  same 
satisfaction  that  he  wants. 

In  the  hut  he  first  finds  the  secretary.  The  man 
who  has  charge  of  the  building  is  there  to  be  used 
in  any  way  he  is  needed.  He  is  not  there  to  push 
religion  on  to  homesick  soldiers.  Above  all  things, 
remember  that  the  secretary  is  a  failure  who  Is 
continually  trying  to  force  his  religion  down  the 
throats  of  the  men  and  boys  who  want  good  fellow- 
ship. After  gaining  the  friendship  and  respect  of 
a  man  and  his  confidence  it  is  not  unlikely  that  the 
influence  of  a  secretary  will  exert  itself  in  a  reli- 
gious manner;  but  even  then  it  will  be  indirectly, 
unless  and  until  there  is  some  definite  evidence 
from  the  man  himself  that  he  is  interested  and 
wants  it. 

In  other  words  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  as  such,  is  not  a 
revival  meeting  whose  object  is  to  impress  the 
weight  of  men's  sins  upon  them  when  that  weight 
presses  heavily  enough  anyway;  but  rather  it  is  a 
place  of  human  feelings  and  homelike  atmosphere. 
A  boy  comes  in  and  finds  writing  paper  for  a  let- 
ter to  his  mother.  In  one  corner  at  the  top  is  the 
Red  Triangle,  emblem  of  body,  mind,  and  spirit; 


The  Red  Cross  41 


and  in  the  other  corner  are  the  words :  "  With  the 
Colors."  When  the  letter  is  written,  stamps  can 
be  had  in  the  building  and  the  letter  is  mailed 
there.  The  boys  have  different  kinds  of  games  to 
play  and  good  books  to  read  so  that  with  the 
amusement  and  comradeship  they  can  also  get 
some  mental  benefit.  When  a  man  comes  in  from 
the  trenches  dirty  and  fatigued  and  about  disgusted, 
there  is  nothing  else  in  the  whole  makeup  of  the 
war-organization  which  will  do  what  this  institu- 
tion does. 

The  Knights  of  Columbus  contribute  quite  as 
freely  to  the  comfort  of  the  soldiers,  and  I  do  not 
believe  there  is  a  boy  on  the  Western  front  who 
would  tolerate  a  word  against  either  of  them.  It 
strikes  me  that  the  religion  of  the  Red  Cross  type 
—  a  type  which  includes  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  and  the 
Knights  of  Columbus  —  is  the  kind  which  the  Mas- 
ter exemplified  in  His  life  and  the  kind  which  he 
intended  for  us.  I  feel  that  it  is  a  far  truer  and 
higher  form  of  religion  than  many  of  the  brands 
that  are  being  peddled  about  the  world  today, 
and  I  hope  when  the  war  is  over,  that  the  whole 
world  may  adopt  it. 


CHAPTER  VIII 


AT  THE  stations  these  days  we  found  num- 
.  bers  of  poilus  who  were  "done  In"  by  the 
German  explosive  bullets,  many  of  them  breathing 
their  last.  Poor  devils,  writhing  In  pain  and  agony ! 
It  was  bad  enough  to  have  their  flesh  penetrated  by 
the  capsule  of  lead  and  steel,  but  to  have  added  to 
it  the  excruciating  torture  of  having  the  bullet 
explode  or  expand  after  It  got  inside,  was 
fiendish. 

But  such  was  the  German^s  Idea  of  "military 
necessity."  They  had  thrust  aside  every  consider- 
ation of  humanity,  and  every  ideal  of  morality,  and 
were  employing  ruthless  and  frightful  methods  to 
gain  their  military  goal,  which  as  they  said  "must 
be  attained  at  all  costs." 

And  cost  it  did. 

It  cost  innocent  life  and  untold  agony. 

It  was  daily  costing  conscience  and  character. 

It  was  costing  Germany  that  standing  among  the 
nations  which  is  so  necessary  to  the  future,  and  she 

42 


When  France  Was  First  ''Gassed''      43 

was  sacrificing  her  national  honor  for  transitory 
dreams  of  power  and  wealth. 

The  Germans  had  employed  the  most  fearful 
implements  that  the  genius  of  their  fertile  brains 
could  devise. 

Liquid  fire  which  seared  the  flesh,  and  electric 
currents  which  burned  most  dreadfully,  were 
among  the  lighter  forms  of  their  torturous  war- 
fare. 

The  poison  gases  capped  the  climax. 

One  afternoon,  at  the  second  battle  of  Ypres, 
they  let  loose  this  demon  of  the  devil. 

From  a  distance  of  two  miles  the  ambulance 
men  had  been  watching  the  engagement,  waiting 
for  the  signal  to  come  forward  to  transport  the 
wounded  men. 

The  field  glasses  betrayed  every  movement  on 
the  battle  line. 

Suddenly,  and  without  any  apparent  cause,  the 
Allied  lines  seemed  to  break,  and  the  fields  were 
alive  with  running  figures. 

Astonishment  took  hold  of  the  spectators. 

The  impossible  had  happened,  and  the  French 
Army  was  In  wild  retreat. 

Figures  were  seen  tottering  and  stumbling 
across  the  meadow,  soldiers  were  reeling  to  and 


44  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

fro,  staggering  like  drunken  men.  Falling  down 
upon  the  ground,  waving  their  arms  frantically, 
they  kicked  their  legs  in  the  air,  agonized  and 
groaning.  Some  of  them  came  into  the  Red  Cross 
dressing  station,  coughing,  choking,  and  strangling. 
Their  faces  were  green  and  their  chests  were 
heaving.  Between  gasps,  they  related  an  incredi- 
ble tale. 

The  Germans  had  opened  up  a  bombardment  of 
our  trenches  with  some  new,  but  hellish,  weapon. 
A  greenish,  gray  gas  had  appeared  above  them, 
and  hung  low,  instead  of  rising.  It  seemed  to  be 
heavier  than  air,  and  soon  it  made  its  way  down 
into  the  trenches,  choking  our  men  and  throwing 
them  into  a  state  of  terror. 

They  tried  to  fan  it  away  with  their  blankets. 
But  no  use,  it  only  spread  the  gas,  which  got  into 
their  throats  and  lungs  and  tortured  them  beyond 
all  description. 

*'  God  knows  we  will  fight  like  men,"  they  said, 
"but  to  be  smothered  like  rats  is  different.  No 
human  being  could  endure  such  suffocation.  God 
never  meant  a  man  to  breathe  that  stuff  and  we'll 
make  those  hell-hounds  pay  for  it." 

But  hundreds  of  poor  poilus  had  already  "gone 
West,"  and  those  who  escaped  were  in  such  a  con- 


When  France  Was  First  ''Gassed"      45 

ditlon  of  permanent  disability  and  weakness  that 
there  was  no  danger  of  their  making  the  Germans 
pay.  Many  Canadians,  too,  brave  fellows,  died 
that  day,  but  on  that  day  also  they  became  immor- 
tal. 

The  stretcher  bearers  had  seen  it  all,  and  now 
upon  the  signal,  plunged  into  the  work  of  lifting 
the  sufferers  into  the  ambulances  and  carrying  them 
back  to  be  treated  and  cared  for.  For  days  this 
thing  endured,  until  at  last  the  Allies  devised  a  gas 
mask  or  respirator  which  completely  nullified  the 
effects  of  the  deadly  chlorine,  but  they  paid  an 
awful  price  before  they  got  it.  It  is  a  very  simple 
device,  consisting  of  a  long  cap  of  light  canvas  or 
similar  material,  soaked  in  a  chemical  solution 
which  absorbs  or  neutralizes  the  poison  of  the 
gases.  The  cap  has  large  eye  holes  with  glass 
windows.  The  air  from  the  lungs  is  expelled 
through  a  tube  which  has  an  outward  opening 
valve,  so  that  you  must  breathe  In  through  the 
treated  gauze.  One's  coat  Is  buttoned  tightly 
around  the  lower  end  of  this  cap  or  "  smoke  hel- 
met," so  that  no  gas  can  enter  from  below.  It  Is 
put  on  In  twenty  seconds  and  can  withstand  five 
hours  of  the  poison  gas. 

Poison  gas!     Had  the  nation  of  Kultur  de- 


46  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

scended  to  such  fiendish  methods  of  torture  ?  Yes, 
and  to  worse  ones.  It  angered  me.  I  had  already 
pulled  off  my  frock  coat.  I  now  shed  my  vest  also. 
I  was  in  process  of  preparation  for  the  supreme 
battle  —  the  moral  struggle  —  to  decide  when  a 
man's  a  man;  to  determine  what  attitude  and  in- 
ward action  I  should  take  in  regard  to  this  kind  of 
thing.  I  could  see  that  I  must  settle  that  problem 
sooner  or  later. 


CHAPTER  IX 

WHEN  JACQUES  "  WENT  WEST" 

ONE  of  the  most  pathetic  of  the  personal  ex- 
periences which  I  had  while  I  was  in  the 
service  was  in  my  association  with  a  young  poilu 
of  about  nineteen. 

I  had  become  well  acquainted  with  the  lad  and 
we  had  many  an  interesting  talk  together,  he  speak- 
ing in  his  inimitable  French  manner  and  I  respond- 
ing in  my  butchered-up  attempt  at  that  language. 

One  day,  however,  after  we  had  been  speaking 
of  how  we  were  going  to  get  the  Germans,  Jacques 
must  have  become  a  little  careless,  and  when  he 
went  up  to  his  fire  step,  raised  his  head  a  little  too 
high,  for  he  received  an  ugly  skull  wound. 

Some  time  afterwards  I  was  by  his  side  and,  in 
a  husky  whisper,  he  told  me  he  was  seriously 
wounded.  He  asked  me  to  bring  him  a  pencil,  and 
said  he  was  afraid  he  was  "done  in."  He  then 
fumbled  clumsily  about  in  the  pocket  of  his  grand- 
tunic,  or  great  coat,  until  he  found  a  piece  of  paper. 
It  was  in  reality  a  piece  of  cardboard  on  which 

47 


48  ''Back  From  Heir 

was  a  photograph  of  himself  taken  with  his  mother 
some  years  before.  It  was  old,  faded,  and  dis- 
colored, and  on  the  back  of  It  he  wrote  a  message 
which  ran  something  like  this : 

Dear  Mother — It  has  been  some  time  since  I  heard 
from  you.  You  doubtless  know  that  father  and  both 
brothers  have  been  killed  in  the  trenches  some  time  ago. 
Now  I  am  wounded  also,  and  I  may  not  be  able  to  come  to 
you,  as  I  expected  to  do  next  week.  But,  Mother  dear,  even 
if  I  do  not  get  to  see  you,  don't  feel  badly  anyway  because 
youVe  given  all  for  La  Belle  France,  and  I  may  see  you 
some  time  —  over  there  —  beyond  the  range.  —  Lovingly, 

Jacques. 

Personally  I  had  thought  and  hoped  that  his 
wound  was  not  so  serious  and  It  would  not  be  neces- 
sary for  me  to  deliver  the  message  to  his  mother. 
But  he  knew  better  than  I.  And  three  days  later 
worse  came  to  worst  and  poor  Jacques  "went 
West."  The  tragic  duty  of  taking  his  body  back 
to  his  lonely  mother,  somewhere  in  France,  de- 
volved upon  me.  I  also  handed  her  his  message,  but 
I  could  not  remain.  Her  grief  was  too  deep.  I 
fairly  ran  away  from  that  house. 

But  that  mother's  eyes  penetrated  my  soul  for 
days  and  weeks,  and  my  thoughts,  try  as  I  might, 
could  not  get  away  from  her  lot.  In  about  three 
weeks  I  felt  a  strong  pull  and  I  made  my  way  back 


When  Jacques  "Went  West''  49 

to  her  little  humble  home  to  see  if  I  could  in  any 
way  lighten  her  burden  a  bit,  or  perhaps  say  some 
word  to  bring  just  a  little  comfort  or  assuage  her 
heart's  grief.  When  I  rapped  on  the  door  and 
she  answered  and  saw  who  I  was,  she  fairly  beamed 
with  pleasure  and  threw  her  arms  about  my  neck 
exclaiming,  "  Mr.  Benson,  I  am  so  glad  you  have 
come,"  and  then  rushing  over  to  the  dresser  drawer 
she  brought  out  that  worn  and  faded  photograph 
with  her  son's  message  on  the  back,  and  as  she 
showed  it  to  me  she  exclaimed:  "I  am  going  to 
keep  it  till  I  die  I  It's  not  for  the  value  of  the  pic- 
ture, but  that  message  interprets  the  heart  of  my 
boy  to  me.  It  tells  me  that  he  loves  me,  and,  Mr. 
Benson,  do  you  know,  I  wish  I  might  have  an- 
other husband  and  three  more  boys  to  go  and  fight 
for  La  Belle  France  I  " 

That's  an  example  of  heroism  and  patriotism 
for  America  I 

And  after  that,  for  several  weeks,  that  little 
loyal  French  mother,  now  alone  in  the  world,  sent 
me  regularly  some  cakes  and  delicacies,  with  the 
message  that  as  she  did  not  have  any  of  her  own 
now  to  care  for,  she  must  try  to  do  her  best  to  help 
those  who  were  helping  France  to  win  the  battle 
for  liberty. 


50  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

Poor  Jacques  had  "  gone  West."  And  she  need 
not  send  him  any  more  clothes  or  food,  but  Jacques 
and  his  two  brothers  and  his  father  too,  have 
thrown  their  lives  into  the  scale,  and  have  added 
just  so  many  more  names  to  that  honor  roll,  which 
already  is  large,  of  patriots  of  France.  They 
loved  their  country.  Every  man,  woman,  and 
child  over  there  does  likewise,  and  France  will 
honor  them  all  eternally. 

I  pray  God's  blessing  on  Jacques'  mother  now. 


CHAPTER  X 


OFTEN  in  the  long,  long  hours  of  the  mid- 
night during  that  period  I  brooded  over 
the  situation.  Frequently  the  wheels  of  my 
thought  would  turn  swiftly,  and  cause  me  to  reflect 
upon  that  life  in  the  terrible  trenches;  in  those 
uncanny  and  frightful  sewers,  dug  in  the  ground, 
out  there  in  No  Man's  Land,  and,  it  sometimes 
seemed,  in  no  God's  land,  where  the  guns  bark, 
and  the  red  fire  leaps,  and  the  shrapnel  hisses,  and 
the  howitzers  rip  and  snort  in  the  daytime,  and 
where  glassy-eyed  rats  and  vermin  sneak  and  glide, 
spying  upon  the  fatigued  soldier  In  the  night  time, 
ready  to  finish  up  the  work  which  the  explosive 
may  not  quite  have  ended. 

Out  there,  in  those  animal  burrows,  surrounded 
by  mud  and  blood  and  bacterial  mold,  where,  week 
after  week,  the  poor,  plucky  poilus  existed.  It  could 
not  be  called  living,  and  month  after  month  re- 
mained in  the  weird,  grim  business  of  killing  their 
unseen  opponents  by  machinery. 


52  ''Back  From  Heir 

I  can  picture  them  now  lying  upon  that  bank  of 
dirt,  some  two  feet  high  and, eighteen  inches  wide 
—  the  fire  step,  they  call  it — which  runs  along 
the  front  side  of  the  trench,  six  feet  in  the  ground 
and  three  or  four  feet  wide,  with  nothing  overhead, 
or  nothing  but  branches  of  trees  covered  with  dust 
and  mud. 

As  I  write  I  can  see  the  entire  spectacle :  How 
those  men  stuck  out  their  rifles  through  the  open- 
ings left  for  them  and,  at  the  given  signal,  fired, 
never  knowing  whether  they  hit  and  killed  their 
objects. 

But  those  bullets  went  home,  all  right. 

The  list  of  wounded  on  either  side,  at  the  end 
of  the  week  or  the  end  of  the  month,  told  more 
tragically  than  any  individual  report  could  tell 
that  those  bullets  went  home.  And  day  after 
day,  and  week  after  week,  every  three  minutes, 
or  every  four  minutes,  those  men  raised  their 
smoking,  reeking  tubes  of  death,  and  let  fly  the 
fatal  messengers. 

And  night  after  night  they  had  to  lie  upon 
that  bench  bed  of  dirt  and  indulge  in  disturbed 
sleep,  or  else  gaze  out  upon  that  knotted,  gnarled 
mass  of  barbed-wire  entanglements  in  front  of 
the  trenches,  as  it  glistened  in  the  moonlight ;  that 


''Trench  Nightmare''  53 

barrier,  which,  unlike  the  barbed  wire  that  civil- 
ized man  —  and  civilized  beast — is  accustomed 
to,  has  barbs  upon  it,  not  one  but  four  inches 
in  length,  to  rend  and  tear  and  catch  the  flesh 
of  man,  and  hold  him  wriggling,  writhing  and 
squirming  as  he  tries  to  charge  the  enemy,  just 
long  enough  to  give  that  enemy  the  chance,  from 
his  hiding  place  over  yonder  under  the  ground, 
to  shoot  him  full  of  bullet  holes. 

God,  what  a  nightmare  it  is  I  And  when  an  as- 
sault was  ordered  and  they  charged  down  the  alley- 
ways between  the  sections  of  barbed-wire  en- 
tanglement, they  found  themselves  confronted  by 
storms  of  bullets  from  those  wicked  machine  guns, 
each  one  of  which  speaks  at  a  rate  of  450  to  3,000 
times  per  minute. 

In  order  to  have  even  a  gambler's  chance  of  cap- 
turing the  enemy's  trench,  therefore,  sometimes  it 
became  necessary  to  abandon  the  open  alleyways 
and  charge  right  across  and  "over  the  top"  of 
those  awful  masses  of  barbed  wire.  This  was 
almost  certain  death  for  those  of  the  first  ranks. 
Other  lines  of  men  following  close  upon  the  first 
might  also  be  mowed  down  as  well,  as  they  were 
caught  upon  the  wire,  but  after  a  while  all  the  wire 
is  covered  up,  and  all  the  space  is  filled  between  the 


54  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

top  of  It,  waist  high,  and  the  earth,  with  soldiers* 
bodies,  a  veritable  foundation  of  human  flesh,  upon 
which  the  following  waves  of  men  usually  rushed 
over  successfully  without  becoming  entangled. 

If  fortune  was  with  them,  they  had  some  pos- 
sibility of  taking  the  trench  of  the  enemy. 

If  they  did,  what  next  ? 

The  enemy,  or  what  was  left  of  him,  retreated 
through  communicating  trenches  to  others  in  the 
rear,  of  which  there  are  many,  planted  a  stick  of 
dynamite  after  him,  to  blow  up  his  retreat,  and 
found  himself.  In  a  few  moments,  a  hundred  yards 
back,  and  intrenched  just  as  solidly  as  he  was  be- 
fore. Perhaps  even  more  solidly,  because  he  had 
now  the  men  who  escaped  from  the  front  line 
trench  in  addition  to  the  same  number  In  the  second 
line,  which  now  became  the  first. 

Such  is  war  today. 

And,  because  of  this  method  of  warfare,  the 
death  list  Is  a  hundredfol4  more  frightful,  and  so 
along  that  battle  line  In  France,  three  hundred  and 
fifty  miles  in  length,  the  weekly  toll  of  human  life 
staggers  all  conception.  The  contemplation  of 
It  saddens  the  soul.  Nothing  but  the  vision  of 
Liberty  and  Right  triumphant  can  ever  compen- 
sate for  the  slaughtered  loved  ones. 


''Trench  Nightmare''  55 

The  piles  of  dead  and  wounded  men,  bleeding, 
groaning  masses  of  human  pulp,  rotting  flesh  and 
decaying  bones,  carry  disease  and  fever  to  ambu- 
lance rescue  workers  and  all.  These  are  the  black 
silhouettes  which  go  to  make  up  that  grim  and 
gloomy  picture,  that  nightmare  of  the  trenches. 
These,  of  course,  are  the  things  one  sees  in  his 
dark  and  somber  moments.  But  it  is  not  all  like 
this. 


CHAPTER  XI 

CALM   BEFORE   A   STORM 

SECTION  '' Y,"  to  which  I  had  been  attached, 
was  about  this  time  transferred  to  a  point 
much  farther  east  and  south.  They  were  a  jolly 
bunch  of  good  fellows  and  always  had  a  sociable 
time  together.  As  a  rule  the  best  of  feeling  existed 
between  all  of  the  members  but  I  remember  one 
occasion  on  which  the  tranquillity  of  the  party 
came  perilously  near  being  upset,  temporarily  at 
least.  One  of  the  boys  was  of  a  rather  argumenta- 
tive turn  of  mind  and  would  often  deny  the  state- 
ments of  the  other  boys  apparently  just  for  the 
sake  of  controversy.  I  think  he  believed  that 
matching  wits  and  defending  one's  position  were 
wholesome  mental  exercises.  I  will  not  mention 
his  name  as  there  is  no  animosity  whatever  between 
us,  but  I  will  say  that  he  went  later  into  the  diplo- 
matic service  of  our  country.  He  had  been  a  kind 
of  soldier  of  fortune  and  without  a  doubt  had 
knocked  about  the  world  a  lot  and  seen  a  number 
of  things.     In  his  time  he  had  been  to  nearly  all 

56 


I 


Calm  Before  a  Storm  57 

the  countries  of  the  globe  and  had  been  In  some 
colleges  and  universities. 

On  this  particular  evening  we  were  sitting 
around  the  tables  at  our  quarters,  each  fellow  tell- 
ing of  some  exploit  of  his  previous  life,  and  he  had 
related  some  strange  experiences  of  his  travels. 
It  happened  that  the  night  before,  when  I  had 
made  the  statement  that  I  once  crossed  the  Atlan- 
tic on  the  Lucania  In  six  days  he  had  flatly  con- 
tradicted me,  saying  that  the  Lucania  was  a 
much  slower  boat.  It  Irritated  me  to  have  him  con- 
tradict me  in  front  of  aU,  the  boys  concerning  a 
thing  which  I  knew  I  had  done.  But  I  let  It  pass. 
This  night,  however.  It  was  different.  Heaven 
only  knows  how  we  drifted  upon  the  subject  but 
I  happened  to  make  the  remark  that  students  at 
Princeton  were  compelled  to  sign  a  pledge  that 
they  would  not  belong  to  any  secret  fraternity 
while  they  were  members  of  the  school.  My  friend 
promptly  g^^eeted  this  remark  with  the  astounding 
statement,  "  They  do  not !  "  I  said,  "  Well,  I  went 
to  school  there  and  I  was  required  to  sign  the 
paper,  and  so  I  ought  to  know."  He  still  persisted 
in  his  denial,  placing  me  in  a  rather  embarrassing 
position  before  the  other  fellows.  I  got  crusty.  I 
said,  "Look  here,  son,  you  denied  a  statement 


58  ''Back  From  Heir 

that  I  made  last  night  about  a  fact  of  my  own  life, 
and  now  you  have  done  it  again.  You  had  better 
tend  to  your  own  business  hereafter,  and  stop  try- 
ing to  make  me  out  a  liar,  or  there  is  going  to  be 
trouble."  He  said,  "  What  will  you  do  about  it?" 
I  replied  pugnaciously,  '^I'll  flatten  your  face, 
that's  what  I'll  do  about  it."  Of  course,  he  said 
something  about  ''starting  in"  whenever  I  got 
ready,  and  so  forth,  and  the  argument  died  down  a 
bit.  A  moment  later  when  I  stepped  outside,  some 
of  the  boys  asked  me  if  I  knew  who  I  had  been 
talking  to.  I  said,  "  No,  but  I'll  do  what  I  said 
I  would,  anyway.  Who  is  he?"  They  said,  "That 
fellow  is  an  ex-prize  fighter  and  at  one  time  was  in 
the  ring  with  th^  greatest  pugilist  in  England." 
"Is  that  right ?^JW  said  in  astonishment,  "Well, 
I  don't  think  I'jSslap  his  face  at  all,  and  he  can 
deny  any  statem'fent  I  make  with  perfect  impunity." 
We  all  had  a  laugh  and  in  his  presence  thereafter 
I  was  very  meek  and  lamblike.  I  pulled  my  horns 
way  in. 

After  all  he  was  a  good  fellow  and  from  this 
moment  we  got  along  on  the  best  of  terms.  We 
had  a  good  many  days  of  calm  about  that  time  and 
not  very  much  to  do  but  wait  for  the  storm  and 
action  of  war.     Sometimes,  to  be  sure,  we  would 


I 


Calm  Before  a  Storm  59 

be  called  out  on  long  trips  to  the  front  to  bring  in 
some  wounded  officer  or  some  dignitary  but  our 
ordinary  duties  were  to  carry  from  the  station  to 
the  several  hospitals  the  wounded  who  came  in  on 
frequent  trains.  The  French  officials,  however, 
seemed  to  appreciate  our  work  even  though  it  was 
quite  humble.  French  courtesy  and  gratitude  are 
such  wonderful  things  that  the  officers  gracefully 
accepted  the  work  and  praised  It  anyway,  though 
I  have  often  thought  that  generosity  must  have 
blinded  them  to  the  many  deficiencies  and  short- 
comings. I  sometimes  wonder  if  they  do  not  smile 
Inwardly  and,  when  they  are  alone,  laugh  out- 
wardly at  the  service  which  we  thought  quite  credit- 
ably done.  Americans  have  a  way  of  thinking  that 
their  work  is  superior  even  though  It  may  not  be 
looked  upon  as  such  by  others.  At  any  rate  ours 
was  done  In  the  best  spirit  of  good  will  and  It  was 
certainly  accepted  in  a  similar  spirit. 

For  a  while  things  were  comparatively  quiet. 
Then,  however,  all  of  a  sudden  attacks  were  begun, 
and  the  boys  had  all  they  could  do  making  trips 
back  and  forth  carrying  the  wounded  from  the 
front  to  the  hospitals. 


CHAPTER  XII 

IF  AN  AMBULANCE    COULD   SPEAK 

IN  SILENT  moments  of  rest  between  trips  I 
occasionally  would  reflect,  "If  an  ambulance 
could  only  talk,  what  tales  it  would  tell  I"  No 
doubt,  sometimes  it  would  tell  of  the  pleasant 
occasions  and  of  merry  conversation,  and  then 
again  it  would  turn  to  the  tragic  and  the  sad. 
Now  it  would  be  of  victorious  moments,  and  again 
it  would  be  of  defeat  and  discouragement.  Occa- 
sionally It  would  be  gay  and  glad,  and  speak  of 
heroism  if  some  slightly  wounded  man  was  riding 
in  it  and  talk  joyfully  of  the  hope  and  gladness 
in  his  heart.  But  far  more  frequently,  I  fear,  it 
would  tell  of  blood  and  pain  and  hate  and 
death. 

As  an  example  of  ambulance  tales  there  is  one 
little  incident  which  I  feel  I  must  relate.     After 

the  battle  at  B ,  where  the  French  Colonials 

of  Africa  composed  the  main  force  of  the  Allies' 
soldiers,  we  had  hundreds  of  these  dark-hued 
men  to  transport  In  our  ambulances.    The  slaugh- 

60 


>H         « 


If  an  Ambulance  Could  Speak         6i 

ter  had  been  terrific,  and  the  wounded  men  were 
extraordinarily  mutilated. 

Two  of  these  Turcos  had  been  loaded  into 
our  ambulance  and  we  were  waiting  for  a  third 
passenger,  when  a  German  prisoner  was  brought 
out  on  a  stretcher.  He  was  very  seriously 
injured,  and  lay  there  quiet  and  pale.  One  of 
the  Turcos  was  badly  wounded,  and  the  other 
one  not  so  seriously.  We  received  orders  to 
carry  the  German  wounded  prisoner  to  the  same 
hospital  as  the  Turcos,  and  so  we  lifted  his  stretcher 
and  slid  it  into  the  upper  story  of  the  ambulance,  a 
suspended  arrangement  which  enabled  us  to  carry 
three  men  while  otherwise  we  could  have  carried 
only  two.  There  was  a  considerable  distance  to  be 
traversed  between  the  station  where  we  received 
our  men  and  the  hospital  to  which  we  were  told  to 
take  them.  After  we  had  been  on  the  road  for 
some  minutes  and  were  driving  along  at  a  fairly 
good  rate,  there  was  a  violent  vibration  and  shak- 
ing of  the  car.  We  switched  off  the  gasoline  and 
threw  in  the  brakes  and,  bringing  the  car  to  a  stop, 
jumped  down  and  ran  around  to  the  rear  to  see 
what  was  wrong. 

The  first  thing  I  saw  was  a  stream  of  blood 
trickling  down  from  the  stretcher  above  and  soak- 


62  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

ing  the  uniform  of  one  of  the  Turcos  in  the  bot- 
tom of  the  car.  I  then  saw  that  this  fellow  had 
his  knife  in  his  hand,  and  I  excitedly  asked  what 
was  the  matter.  The  other  Turco,  who  was  not 
so  badly  wounded  explained  that  his  partner  did 
not  like  the  idea  of  having  a  live  German  riding 
in  the  same  car  with  him,  and  so  he  had  slipped 
out  his  trench  knife  and  with  what  strength  he  had 
left,  had  rallied  and  raised  himself  up  enough  to 
thrust  it  upward  through  the  stretcher  and  into  the 
back  of  the  German  above.  There  was  a  smile  of 
satisfaction  on  the  black  face  of  the  Turco,  who 
had  fallen  back  exhausted.  We  unbuckled  the 
straps  which  held  the  German's  stretcher  and 
slipped  it  out,  but  he  was  already  dead.  While 
we  were  examining  him  the  two  Turcos  said  a  few 
words  to  each  other,  and  when  we  were  about  to 
start  forward  they  both  refused  to  ride  with  a  dead 
German  in  the  car.  Before  we  were  done  with 
him  we  had  to  carry  the  corpse  to  the  side  of  the 
road  and  bury  it  there. 

We  folded  up  the  stretcher,  put  it  back  into 
the  car,  and  again  set  out.  When  we  got  to  the 
hospital  several  miles  farther  on,  we  lifted  out 
the  stretchers,  but  one  of  the  Turcos  was  dead. 
He  had  used  up  all  his  strength  and  life  in  the 


If  an  Ambulance  Could  Speak         63 

great  effort  he  had  put  forth  to  kill  the  hated 
German,  but  the  other  one  said  he  was  very  con- 
tented, and  had  died  willingly  and  gladly. 

Such  little  Incidents  of  different  kinds  are  con- 
tinually happening,  where  millions  of  men  from 
all  classes  of  society  and  with  different  ideals  are 
thrown  together,  and  I  am  sure  any  ambulance 
on  the  Western  front  could  tell  many  a  thrilling 
tale  if  it  but  had  the  power.  Perhaps  it  is  better 
that  It  can  not  speak. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

A  TICKLISH  ATTACK 

AT  ONE  time  I  was  called  upon  to  go  to  the 
city  of  A on  a  particular  errand.  While 

there  I  had  a  unique  experience.  I  had  gotten 
a  permit  allowing  me  to  remain  there  over  night, 
which,  speaking  accurately,  allowed  me  to  leave 
next  day.  You  have  very  little  difficulty  "  stay- 
ing" in  a  place  as  long  as  you  stay,  but  if  you  do 
not  have  a  permit  you  will  have  your  troubles 
when  you  try  to  "  leave  "  next  day. 

All  permits  in  Europe  today  read  "allowed 
to  leave ''  such  and  such  a  place  on  such  and  such 
a  day  for  another  place. 

Well,  I  had  gotten  my  permit  to  leave  A 

on  the  following  day,  the  24th.  I  wandered 
around  over  the  city  viewing  the  destroyed  por- 
tions and  making  the  acquaintance  of  some  women- 
folk who  ran  a  restaurant,  and  at  last  I  found  a 
hotel  and  went  to  sleep.  The  next  morning  after 
breakfast  I  left  my  hotel  and  made  my  way  up 
the  main  street  until  I  came  to  a  narrow  alley-like 

«4 


A  Ticklish  Attack  65 

street  with  tall  buildings  on  either  side,  into  which 
I  entered,  bent  on  investigation.  I  had  not  gone 
more  than  a  hundred  feet  down  this  street  when  I 
distinctly  heard  a  boom! 

I  did  not  pay  much  attention  to  it,  for  I  thought 
it  was  likely  some  blasting  in  the  vicinity,  and 
presently  I  heard  another  boom! 

I  then  looked  about  and  saw  a  man  ahead  of 
me  leading  a  horse  hitched  to  a  high-wheeled 
vegetable  cart,  heavily  loaded.  He  was  trying  to 
run  and  drag  along  with  him,  horse,  cart,  and  all. 
Everybody  was  running  and  —  well  —  I  guess  I 
ran,  tool  I  don't  know  just  why  I  did  —  I  know 
I  wasn't  scared  I  But  some  way  a  feeling  inside 
of  me  told  me  I  would  rather  be  in  some  other 
place  than  there.  If  I  was  to  be  killed,  I  thought 
It  would  be  more  consolation  to  the  folks  at  home 
if  my  body  wasn't  loaded  down  with  hundreds  of 
tons  of  brick  and  mortar.  For  nine  and  one-fifth 
seconds  I  beat  the  world's  record. 

Boom!    Boom!   Boom! 

When  I  got  out  into  the  main  street  again  and 
turned  to  get  my  breath,  along  with  a  good  many 
other  runners,  I  saw  three  airplanes  dropping 
bombs  down  on  the  city  alt  the  rate  of  a  hundred 
in  a  little  over  three  minutes,  and  with  the  deto- 


66 "Back  From  Heir 

nations  and  the  reverberations  of  the  anti-aircraft 
guns  which  were  being  fired,  added  to  the  explo- 
sions of  the  bombs  themselves,  it  just  seemed  as 
though  the  entire  atmosphere  was  raining  bombs. 
And  any  way  I  went,  a  whole  flock  of  the  bombs 
followed  me.  I  learned  later  that  an  important 
factory  was  destroyed  and  that  forty  people  were 
killed.  If  they  had  told  me  forty  thousand,  I 
think  I  should  have  believed  it.  The  feeling  on 
such  an  occasion  as  this  is  indescribable.  It  is 
not  like  any  ordinary  bombardment  when  you 
know  the  enemy  is  letting  you  have  it  from  only 
one  side  —  the  front.  The  sense  of  utter  help- 
lessness when  you  feel  he  is  all  about  you  and 
peppering  you  from  a  thousand  angles  isn't 
comfortable  to  say  the  least.  That  afternoon 
I  strolled  about  the  city  taking  in  the  ruined  dis- 
tricts, and  that  evening  I  set  off  for  my  post,  com- 
plying with  the  provisions  of  my  pass.  If  I  hadn't 
left  then,  I  couldn't  have  gone  at  all  without  a  lot 
of  difficulty. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  DEATH  OF  A  COMRADE 

ON  A  certain  Friday  afternoon  at  M the 
day  had  been  ominously  quiet.  Several  of 
the  boys  had  gone  out  for  a  little  stroll  and  lunch 
before  retiring,  and  a  few  were  hanging  around 
the  cars.  The  sun  was  sinking  low  in  the  west 
and  appeared  to  be  loath  to  drop  out  of  sight.  An 
orderly  from  the  hospital  came  rushing  over  out 
of  breath  and  told  us  to  come  quickly.  Two  boys 
went  with  me  immediately  and  as  we  entered  a 
darkened  room  we  saw  our  old  friend,  Gaston, 
apparently  "passing  out."  Some  of  us  had  been 
pretty  well  acquainted  with  him.  We  went  in 
noiselessly  but  as  soon  as  we  stepped  over  the 
threshold  he  opened  his  eyes  a  little  wider  and 
smiled  faintly.  He  looked  so  peaceful  that  we 
hated  to  disturb  him.  Speaking  In  a  kind  of  hoarse 
whisper  he  said,  "  I  sent  for  you.  I  am  glad  you 
came.  You  boys  have  been  good  to  me  and  I 
wanted  to  thank  you.  I  am  lonesome,  and  I  want 
my  mother,  too.     Pneumonia  has  set  in,  but  I'll 

67 


68 ''Back  From  Heir 

be  better — in  —  a  —  couple  —  of — days.     How 

—  is  —  the  —  battle  —  go ?"     Here  his  eyes 

closed  and  he  seemed  to  sleep.  Yes,  I  can  truth- 
fully say  he  did  find  sleep.  The  sleep  which  knows 
no  waking.  But  the  room  was  so  quiet  and  he 
looked  so  calm  and  happy  as  he  lay  there  that  it 
did  not  seem  like  death.  It  only  seemed  as  if  some 
white  angel  had  come  down  and  touched  his  tired, 
feeble  body  and  transfigured  him.  Poor  fellow, 
he  had  been  gassed  at  the  battle  of  Ypres,  and  we 
had  met  him  at  the  hospital.  Several  times  we  had 
had  good  visits  with  him  and  neither  he  nor  we  sur- 
mised that  his  time  was  so  near  at  hand.  He  had 
not  appeared  to  be  in  pain  and  he  always  said  he 
did  not  suffer.    And  he  was  so  hopeful  to  the  end. 

His  life  story  had  been  a  sad  one.  Married 
when  very  young  he  had  been  a  farmer  on  one  of 
those  little  places  so  common  and  yet  so  unique  in 
France.  Things  had  not  gone  well  with  him  and 
his  farm  had  almost  been  forfeited.  He  had  a 
family  of  children  but  his  little  twin  boy  and  girl 
had  been  killed  in  a  runaway  and  the  shock  had 
prostrated  his  wife.  She  had  been  an  invalid  ever 
since.  Years  had  gone  by  and  then  when  the  Ger- 
mans came,  a  shell  had  struck  his  home  killing  his 
wife  in  her  bed  and  injuring  his  other  boy.    A  few 


The  Death  of  a  Comrade  69 

hours  later  the  Germans  entered  the  place,  driving 
him  out  of  his  home,  taking  his  farm.  He  had 
barely  time  to  escape  being  captured,  which  would 
have  meant  service  for  Germany  instead  of  for 
France.  His  heart  had  been  saddened  but  he  was 
glad  to  get  away  and  go  into  the  French  Army  and 
he  had  gone  back  to  fight  the  Germans.  He  had 
gone  through  several  battles  without  being  injured 
but  the  gas  caught  him  at  Ypres.  He  lived  sadly 
but  died  peacefully,  and  we  were  requested  to  be 
present  at  the  last  little  service  over  what  was 
earthly  of  him.  They  put  him  In  a  plain  casket 
covered  with  a  French  flag  and  the  procession 
started  down  toward  the  little  church. 

At  this  time  the  Germans  were  bombing  the  dis- 
trict quite  regularly.  On  reaching  the  graveyard 
we  could  see  dozens  of  tombstones  demolished, 
and  one  grave  had  thrown  its  occupant  to  the  sur- 
face of  the  earth  and  it  lay  there  a  crumbling,  rot- 
ting corpse  —  yet  smiling,  or  at  least  so  it  seemed 
as  the  pearly  white  teeth  were  exposed  to  full  view 
—  smiling  in  derision,  beyond  the  power  of  the 
German  and  his  Kultur.  Here  Gaston  was  laid 
to  rest. 

But  war  furnishes  strange  contradictions.  It  is 
a  continuous  panorama  of  lights  and  shadows ;  of 


70  ''Back  From  Heir 

beauties  and  hideous  monstrosities.  It  furnishes 
some  of  the  truest  and  bravest  acts  that  history 
records  and  It  produces  some  of  the  foulest  deeds 
of  crime.  Experiences  are  so  varied.  Some  eve- 
nings, while  loafing  about  the  headquarters  sitting 
at  little  tables  writing  letters  or  talking  peacefully 
there  was  nothing  whatever  to  remind  us  of  battle. 
Beautiful  parks  were  in  front  of  us,  fountains  and 
flowers,  and  all  was  quiet  and  serene.  Then  a  call 
would  come  and  within  an  hour  or  two  we  would 
be  enveloped  in  the  harsh  stern  facts  of  war. 

After  witnessing  the  death  of  our  comrade  and 
seeing  the  shattered  cemetery  and  the  decaying 
corpse  sticking  out  of  the  grave,  all  in  one  day, 
I  felt  a  bit  weird  myself.  A  man's  nervous  consti- 
tution isn't  made  of  Iron  and  even  after  seeing 
many  morbid  spectacles,  unless  he  has  become 
hopelessly  hardened,  he  will  still  be  affected  by 
tragic  experiences  and  brutal  scenes.  I  didn't  rest 
any  too  well  that  night  after  those  creepy  sensa- 
tions and  the  next  day  my  nerves  were  rather  shaky. 
The  grim  spectacle  which  was  now  to  greet  my 
eyes  did  not  tend  to  quiet  me  either. 

I  was  sent  on  quite  a  long  trip  to  bring  in  two 
wounded  men  of  the  Colonials,  one  French,  the 
other  British.    These  two  men,  Turko  and  Senega- 


The  Death  of  a  Comrade  71 

lese,  proverbially  speaking,  were  as  black  as  the 
ace  of  spades.  Neither  of  them  was  very  dan- 
gerously wounded  and  both  were  talking  cheer- 
fully. One  had  a  leg  broken  and  the  other  had 
been  caught  In  the  shoulder.  As  we  slid  out  the 
stretcher  of  the  first  man  and  placed  it  on  the 
ground,  his  knapsack  fell  off  and  to  my  astonish- 
ment out  rolled  the  head  of  a  German  soldier! 
The  African  spoke  of  it  with  great  satisfaction, 
turning  it  over  In  his  hands  and  boasting  of  his 
good  fortune,  as,  I  suppose  the  primitive  Ameri- 
can Indian  boasted  of  the  scalp  dangling  from  his 
belt.  The  other  fellow,  not  to  be  outdone,  ran  his 
hand  Into  the  cavernous  depths  of  his  pocket  and 
brought  forth  a  human  eye.  It  was  a  ghastly  look- 
ing object.  It  seemed  to  me  to  be  penetrating  the 
soul  of  the  Colonial,  but  he  just  laughed  and  en- 
joyed very  much  my  discomfiture. 

One  evening  as  I  was  about  to  "hit  the  hay," 
two  wounded  men  came  In  on  foot  from  the  front. 
They  were  so  weak  they  could  drag  themselves 
along  no  farther.  I  was  requested  to  take  them 
to  a  hospital  which  was  some  distance  from  the 
place.  I  got  my  car  ready  and  saw  that  everything 
was  right.  The  night  was  dark  as  pitch.  The 
men  were  put  on  a  brancard,  or  stretcher,  and 


72  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

placed  in  the  ambulance.  We  were  making  our 
way  toward  our  destination  when  we  came  to  a 
piece  of  road  running  through  a  cut  in  the  hilly 
country.  The  road  was  rather  narrow,  just  allow- 
ing enough  room  for  two  vehicles  to  pass.  On 
either  side  was  a  great  bank  fifteen  or  more  feet 
high.  Right  in  the  main  part  of  the  cut  was  a  mud- 
hole  perhaps  a  hundred  feet  or  more  in  length. 
When  we  came  to  this  place  we  were  suspicious  of 
it  and  stopped  for  a  few  moments  to  consider  be- 
fore making  the  plunge.  As  we  did  so  a  line  of 
motor  lorries  and  soldiers  came  down  from  the 
other  direction.  I  was  afraid  it  was  too  daring  an 
enterprise  but  two  or  three  of  the  trucks  got  safely 
through  and  my  fears  began  to  be  allayed.  A 
truck  now  came  loaded  high  with  ammunition 
cases  and  just  behind  it  two  men  on  horses.  Into 
the  mudhole  plowed  the  ammunition  truck,  and 
the  riders  followed  close  behind.  The  mud  was 
getting  deeper  and  deeper  and  the  wheels  began  to 
clog.  An  awful  tattoo  sounded  as  the  driver  threw 
In  the  low  speed  and  tried  to  pull  ahead.  The  boys 
on  horseback  turned  out  to  go  around  the  truck, 
which  was  evidently  sticking.  As  they  did  so  Its 
rear  wheel  struck  a  rock  and  broke  short  off,  up- 
setting the  entire  load.    In  falling  down,  the  shell 


The  Death  of  a  Comrade  73 

cases  frightened  the  horses.  One  of  them  reared 
and  fell,  throwing  the  rider  right  under  the  over- 
turning truck.  He  was  fatally  crushed.  The 
soldiers  coming  up  extricated  the  poor  fellow  from 
the  wreckage  and  brought  him  to  our  ambulance. 
I  quickly  saw  that  he  was  "done  in."  tte  could 
talk  a  little,  and  he  said  that  It  was  foolish  to  at- 
tempt to  ride  around  the  truck  in  the  narrow  space, 
especially  where  the  mud  was  so  deep. 

We  doubled  back  part  way  on  our  journey  and 
made  a  detour.  But  the  mangled  man  died  before 
we  reached  our  destination.  We  delivered  the 
other  wounded  and  made  the  return  trip  with  little 
difficulty.  Later  on  many  soldiers  came  In  on  foot 
over  that  piece  of  road  but  they  said  that  the  other 
trucks  had  all  turned  back  and  gone  around  an- 
other way.  They  did  not  dare  to  brave  that  awful 
mudhole.  These  soldiers  were  dirty,  worn  and 
battle-weary  for  they  had  walked  from  the  trenches 
for  miles  through  the  mud,  and  they  plainly  showed 
It  too.  There  was  not  a  spot  as  big  as  your  hand 
on  them  that  was  not  dyed  with  that  cream-colored 
mud  and  their  faces  were  speckled  with  it  so  that 
they  looked  almost  as  If  they  had  had  the  smallpox. 
As  one  of  them  turned  to  leave  me,  he  uttered  the 
words,  "  Some  mud." 


CHAPTER  XV 

ON   AN    OLD    BATTLE    GROUND 

IN  A  certain  section  of  the  country  one  could 
see  from  a  prominent  hill  across  some  cities 
and  onward  to  the  edge  of  the  German  lines.  The 
region  has  been  much  fought  over  and  in  fact  Is  an 
old  battle  ground.  One  terribly  drizzly  day  it  be- 
came necessary  to  go  over  to  a  nearby  village  to 
evacuate  a  hospital.  Wild  tales  had  come  in  about 
the  " strafing"  which  the  town  was  being  subjected 
to  and  we  were  immediately  ordered  to  hurry  to 
the  spot.  It  was  said  that  the  Germans  were  shell- 
ing the  place  with  "H.  E.'s"  from  a  distance  of 
about  twenty  miles,  with  shells  of  fifteen  and  seven- 
teen inch  caliber.  If  there  is  anything  which  will 
put  the  fear  of  God  in  a  man  It  is  the  explosion  of 
one  of  those  "big  fellows." 

From  the  frightened  faces  of  the  men  who  had 
just  come  from  there,  I  think  the  whole  town  had 
suddenly  become  a  God-fearing  people  —  since  six 
o'clock  that  morning.  They  told  us  that  hundreds 
of  people  had  been  killed  and  that  many  buildings 

74 


On  an  Old  Battle  Ground  75 

were  in  flames.  Well,  we  went  to  our  car  and  tried 
to  start  it  but  it  would  not  crank.  We  tried  every- 
thing we  could  think  of  but  it  was  of  no  use.  The 
chilly  night  evidently  had  cooled  the  engine  too 
much.  We  heated  a  kettle  of  water  and  fed  it  into 
the  radiator  and  poured  it  over  the  carburetor. 
This  helped  some,  for  she  sputtered  a  little  but  the 
engine  did  not  take  enough  gas  to  turn  over.  Fin- 
ally after  I  had  taken  out  all  the  spark  plugs  and 
given  them  a  good  cleaning  with  gasoline,  I  cranked 
up  and  she  started  off  with  a  bang. 

All  this  time  the  men  who  had  come  in  from  the 
burning  village  had  been  urging  us  to  hurry.  Their 
impatience  added  so  much  to  our  nervousness  that 
it  made  us  almost  angry.  Any  man  who  has  motor 
trouble  will  appreciate  it.  At  last  we  started  the 
ambulance.  Just  as  we  were  going  out  the  gate  — 
whish  I  We  picked  up  a  tack  and  our  rear  tire  was 
flat!  It  took  me  about  eight  minutes  to  take  off 
that  tire  and  put  a  new  one  on,  but  it  seemed  like 
hours.  The  men  who  had  been  telling  us  how  to 
do  it  now  chmbed  into  the  back  of  the  car  and  went 
along  with  us.  We  had  been  on  the  road  only  a 
few  minutes  when  we  met  a  man  coming  down  the 
road  pulling  behind  him  a  two-wheeled  cart.  He 
raised  his  hands  as  a  signal  to  stop.     We  did. 


76  ''Back  From  Heir' 

Then,  with  tears  streaming  down  his  face,  he  be- 
gan to  talk  to  us,  pointing  to  the  cart  which  was 
covered  with  old  rag  carpet.  At  last  he  lifted  the 
carpet  and  showed  us  the  lifeless  body  of  a  woman, 
of  his  wife  I  The  body  was  horribly  mutilated,  the 
head  and  right  arm  were  entirely  gone  and  the  left 
hand  was  blown  to  shreds.  As  the  poor  man 
looked  at  the  corpse  he  became  fairly  frantic, 
screaming  and  moaning.  We  tried  to  say  some 
words  of  sympathy  but  the  only  answer  he  could 
give  us  was,  O,  ma  femme!  ma  femme!  We 
climbed  out  of  the  car  and  while  we  stood  there  an 
old  man  and  a  little  girl  came  trudging  up  —  the 
daughter  and  father  of  the  woman.  They,  too, 
began  to  cry.  Suddenly  the  old  man  reeled  and 
fell  to  the  ground.  When  we  picked  him  up  he  was 
dead.  He  had  died  of  a  broken  heart.  We  lifted 
his  body  into  the  cart  beside  that  of  his  daughter. 
I  never  felt  so  heartless  in  my  life  as  I  did  when 
we  left  that  man  and  little  girl  to  stumble  on  with 
their  burden  of  sorrow. 

When  we  reached  the  village,  the  situation  con- 
firmed all  the  rumors.  The  shelling  had  stopped, 
but  the  burning  of  the  buildings  was  almost  as  bad. 
We  drove  down  the  street  to  the  public  square 
and  just  then  over  on  the  opposite  corner  a  large 


On  an  Old  Battle  Ground  7J 

caliber  shell  came  crashing  In,  striking  a  school 
building,  exploding  and  producing  a  fearful  effect. 
Twelve  children  were  killed  and  the  entire  school- 
house  destroyed.  The  force  of  these  large  projec- 
tiles Is  almost  Inconceivable.  Very  often  a  single 
one  will  completely  annihilate  an  entire  building, 
reducing  It  to  a  pile  of  bricks,  dust  and  kindling 
wood.  I  have  seen  one  of  them  practically  de- 
molish two  houses  separated  by  several  feet. 

Well,  at  last  we  got  to  the  hospital.  Shells  had 
burst  around  it  but  none  had  struck  It  as  yet,  and 
the  few  people  who  were  there  were  badly  fright- 
ened. We  carried  a  load  of  wounded  back  to  the 
base  and  with  the  help  of  the  other  ambulances 
after  several  hours  we  evacuated  the  hospital.  Be- 
fore the  work  was  finished,  however,  the  Germans 
had  shelled  the  road  and  It  became  a  difficult  mat- 
ter to  pick  our  way  along  and  dodge  the  craters. 
A  shell  burst  just  In  front  of  one  of  the  cars  and 
covered  the  driver  with  fine  pieces  of  stone  and 
dust. 

As  evening  drew  on  the  great  volcano-like 
explosions  from  the  guns  in  the  distance  lighted  up 
the  sky  and  made  an  inspiring  and  awful  spectacle. 
As  the  guns  belched  forth  their  messages  of  death 
one  might  have  thought  he  was  In  the  midst  of  a 


78  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

hundred  powder  factories  which  were  exploding 
periodically.  There  was  something  fascinating 
about  It  all,  yet  frightful,  but  as  I  reflected  on  the 
capacity  for  ruin  and  death  which  those  engines  of 
war  possessed,  I  thought  I  would  prefer  to  be 
farther  away.  The  firing  ceased  as  night  came  on 
and  the  atmosphere  cleared  up.  A  wonderful  red 
moon  rose  In  the  heavens  above  those  awful  scenes 
and  for  some  brief  hours  brought  a  feeling  of 
peace  and  calm. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  VERDUN  ATTACK  —  LIFE  AND  DEATH 

MULTITUDES  of  people  without  doubt 
would  like  to  know  what  an  attack  is 
like,  consequently  I  will  try  to  describe  one  in 
the  region  of  Verdun.  After  serving  six  hours* 
notice  on  the  city  the  Germans*  big  guns  opened 
up,  with  large  caliber  shells  at  short  intervals. 
Frightened  by  the  fearful  bombardment  the  civil 
population  in  multitudes  swarmed  out  of  the  town 
and  took  to  the  country  roads.  Thousands  of 
trucks  and  numbers  of  guns  and  soldiers  advanc- 
ing towards  the  enemy  passed  these  fleeing  people. 
Many  camions  slipped  off  the  road,  turned  over, 
smashed,  and  were  left  there,  but  the  procession 
moved  on  and  on.  Horses  died  and  were  left  to 
rot  on  the  roadside.  Yet  the  procession  bent  on 
grim  business  never  paused.  The  routes  of  travel 
were  jammed  with  soldiers  and  the  rumble  and 
roar  of  the  monster  guns  of  the  Teutons  dinned 
into  one's  ears  the  message  that  the  world  was 
locked  in  a  death  struggle. 

79 


8q  ''Back  From  Heir' 

Men  and  munitions  are  the  only  things  that 
count  in  such  an  hour;  and  at  Verdun  in  those 
perilous  times  so  many  thousands  of  noble  men 
were  wounded  and  cast  aside  that  inconceivable 
numbers  were  required  to  take  their  places  and  fill 
the  ranks.  Such  is  the  wonderful  spirit  of  France 
that  men  always  are  ready  to  fill  the  gaps  In  the 
line.  They  go  gladly  and  I  believe  they  will  sac- 
rifice thus  until  the  very  end. 

Peasants  were  passing  by  in  haste,  dragging 
two-wheeled  push  carts  loaded  with  the  baubles 
which  they  counted  dear,  but  which  in  death  are  of 
little  value.  Coming  and  going,  coming  and  go- 
ing, the  two  processions  moved  through  the  weary 
hours,  and  still  on  the  horizon  the  mouths  of  Hell 
belched  forth  their  smoke  and  fire,  and  across  the 
field  was  heard  the  awful  rumbling  of  the  guns. 
Many  different  kinds  of  shells  were  used,  produc- 
ing different  effects  which  could  be  distinguished 
by  the  various  colors  of  smoke  emitted  In  explod- 
ing. They  also  filled  the  air  with  strange  and 
nauseating  odors,  and  the  crumbling  houses  sent  up 
enormous  clouds  of  dust. 

Without  warning  out  of  the  night  came  a  bat- 
tery of  guns  with  a  clatter  of  horses'  hoofs  and 
clamor  of  wheels  on  the  pavement,  and  in  a  few 


52  -t='    <u 


82 ''Back  From  Heir' 

Verdun  is  an  old  fort  and  reputed  to  be  one  of 
the  most  formidable  fortifications  in  the  world. 
Had  it  not  been  so  it  would  certainly  have  been 
crushed  like  an  eggshell  before  the  German  on- 
slaught, for  a  dozen  shells  often  exploded  at  the 
same  time,  blowing  up  many  buildings,  yet  the 
fortress  never  weakened  for  an  instant.  If  Verdun 
had  fallen,  nothing  could  have  stood.  But  as  Vic- 
tor Hugo  says  of  Waterloo,  "  God  was  passing  by 
and  He  took  charge  of  things."  To  our  little 
minds  it  is  all  mysterious.  Wonderful  are  the 
ways  of  His  working,  but  through  one  agency  or 
another  He  always  thwarts  the  designs  of  evil  men 
and  has  His  way  at  last. 

Verdun  was  most  important.  In  every  war 
there  are  certain  battles  which  the  historian  calls 
"  strategic,"  certain  points  which  are  pivotal,  and 
the  outcome  of  the  engagement  there  is  particu- 
larly vital.  The  history  and  destiny  of  nations 
hangs  upon  them.  Such  a  one  was  Waterloo  a 
century  ago.  Gettysburg  in  the  Civil  War  was  an- 
other one.  In  this  present  struggle  the  Marne  and 
Verdun  have  been  the  outstanding  pivotal  battles, 
but  they  were  won  I  Won  by  the  French,  who,  as 
I  look  at  it,  were  held  up  and  led  on  by  the  very 
hand  of  God.     I  am  not  a  military  expert,  and  I 


The  Verdun  Attack  83 

have  no  knowledge  or  insight  that  other  folk  do 
not  possess,  but  it  is  my  inward  judgment  that  from 
this  time  on  the  battles  will  be  fought  east  of  Ver- 
dun. That  is  to  say  in  the  main,  I  doubt  very  much 
if  the  Germans  will  push  through  much  farther 
than  they  are  already  and  I  believe  that  little  by 
little  the  Allies  will  crowd  them  back  along  the 
greater  portion  of  the  front  until  victorious.  The 
world  must  bear  in  mind,  however,  that  Germany 
is  by  no  means  weak  and  that  she  will  not  be  van- 
quished without  an  awful  struggle.  She  may  also 
at  places  advance  her  line  somewhat,  but  I  think 
no  one  need  now  fear  as  many  did  in  the  beginning 
that  Paris  will  ever  be  taken,  or  that  Verdun  will 
fall.    It  has  stood  the  supreme  test  I 

One  must  remember,  however,  that  Verdun  to- 
day is  not  a  beautiful  sight.  The  forts  are  still  in- 
tact and  from  a  military  point  of  view  that  is  all 
that  counts.  But  from  an  artistic  or  aesthetic 
standpoint,  the  place  is  ^orry  indeed.  When  the 
Germans  sent  over  their  incendiary  bombs  setting 
the  buildings  on  fire,  and  then  their  hail  of  shrap- 
nel so  the  fire  could  not  be  put  out,  they  accom- 
plished sad  destruction.  Broken  pieces  of  glass, 
bits  of  shell  and  upturned  cobblestones  fill  the 
streets,  and  battered  carts  and  wagons  lie  every- 


84  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

where.  Houses  are  smashed  to  pieces  and  smoke- 
blackened  brick  and  charred  timbers,  the  worthless 
remains  of  burned  buildings  are  seen  on  every 
hand.  From  the  individual  viewpoint  Verdun  is 
very  sad,  extremely  so.  Thousands  of  people  have 
been  driven  from  their  homes  and  when  they  left 
they  had  to  say  good-bye  to  those  homes  forever. 
Multitudes  have  had  loved  ones  killed  while  oth- 
ers have  lost  track  of  their  relatives  and  probably 
will  never  find  them.  Beautiful  edifices,  the  ful- 
filment of  the  artists'  dream,  have  been  battered 
and  burned  down,  and  in  that  city  at  the  present 
moment  Art  is  not  I    All  this  is  lamentable. 

Yet  from  the  larger  point  of  view,  that  of 
France,  Verdun  is  a  glorious  triumph.  From  the 
national  and  even  the  world  standpoint,  Verdun 
means  one  more  thwarting  of  the  tyrant's  design 
and  one  more  victory  for  Truth  and  Right.  When 
we  rise  above  today,  and  look  at  things  in  the  light 
of  human  progress,  our  value  judgments  alter 
much.  The  world  will  not  care  much  whether  this 
or  that  individual  lost  his  house  or  farm,  for  a 
ruined  city  will  rise  again,  but  the  heart  of  the 
world  leaps  with  joy  when  It  realizes  that  the  des- 
pot has  been  checked!  And  even  the  French  in- 
dividual possesses  such  an  indomitable  spirit  of 


The  Verdun  Attack  85 

patriotism  that  he  will  not  mourn  for  his  temporal 
losses  just  so  the  future  of  France  is  not  impaired. 
The  long  sacrifice  and  the  enduring  suffering  are 
borne  by  these  patient  people  with  remarkable 
calm.  They  endure  today  in  silence,  their  Calvary 
of  war,  the  bloody  Golgotha  of  France. 

Yet  I  would  not  have  you  think  that  war  is  all 
battle.  Not  all  of  the  hours  nor  even  the  days  of 
the  men  in  the  war  country  are  taken  up  with 
thoughts  of  horror,  or  in  listening  to  the  explo- 
sions of  shells,  or  the  carrying  of  mangled  or  lacer- 
ated men.  The  war  is  so  gigantic  in  its  opera- 
tion and  it  covers  so  vast  an  area  that  millions  of 
the  people  engaged  find  themselves  many  times 
occupied  with  the  most  peaceful  thoughts  and  the 
most  commonplace  pursuits.  If  all  of  the  people 
engaged  were  compelled  continually  to  face  the 
cannon  and  the  barbed  wire,  or  to  listen  to  the 
moans  of  the  dying,  and  feel  that  they  themselves 
were  apt  to  be  taken  off  at  any  minute,  they  would 
not  be  the  cool-headed  people  that  they  are,  but 
Instead  would  be  a  crowd  of  raving  maniacs.  The 
person  thousands  of  miles  away  from  the  spectacle 
who  only  reads  about  it  often  gets  a  wrong  impres- 
sion on  this  point.  Nations  are  mobilized;  multi- 
tudes are  under  arms;  thousands  are  engaged  in 


86  ''Back  From  HeW' 

assisting  those  who  fight  intermittently  —  and  no 
soldier  fights  except  intermittently,  a  week  or  so  on 
and  several  days  off  —  and,  consequently,  not  in- 
frequently there  are  hours  or  even  days  when  one 
takes  the  even  tenor  of  his  way  far  from  the  battle 
front,  much  the  same  as  he  does  in  times  of  peace. 

On  such  an  evening,  I  found  myself  writing  a 
letter,  as  letters  to  me  of  late  had  been  rather 
scarce.  I  was  sitting  in  a  plain,  bare  hut  with 
a  kerosene  lamp,  and  a  peculiar  letter  it  was  that 
I  wrote.  I  had  seen  some  odd  writing  paper  in  a 
little  stationery  store  and  had  paid  a  couple  of 
cents  for  three  or  four  sheets  of  it.  Each  sheet 
was  arranged  by  the  manufacturer  so  as  to  make  a 
complete  letter.  If  you  were  to  take  an  ordinary 
sheet  of  paper  and  perforate  it  on  the  sewing  ma- 
chine on  all  four  sides  about  half  an  inch  from  the 
edge,  then  put  some  mucilage  on  that  half  inch 
margin  and  let  it  dry,  folding  it  across  the  middle, 
you  would  have  a  piece  of  this  one-letter  stationery. 
As  it  happened  there  was  a  little  wording  on  the 
outside,  and  a  square  for  the  postage  stamp.  All 
you  have  to  do  is  to  write  the  address  on  the  out- 
side, open  it  out,  pen  your  missive  inside,  fold  it 
and  wet  the  edges  all  the  way  round,  thus  sticking 
it,  and  you  then  have  your  letter  so  to  speak,  on 


The  Verdun  Attack  87 

the  inside  of  your  envelope  and  the  receiver  simply 
tears  off  the  perforated  edges,  opens  it  up,  and 
reads. 

I  was  writing  on  this  odd  French  stationery  after 
a  day  of  idleness.  My  table  consisted  of  two 
boards  thrown  across  a  couple  of  sawhorses  —  a 
very  comfortable  table  by  the  way,  but  the  kero- 
sene lamp  smelled  badly.  My  thoughts  were  of 
America  and  home.  I  was  in  a  soliloquizing  mood 
and  I  also  wanted  the  letter  as  a  souvenir,  when  I 
returned.    And  so  I  began : 

My  dear  sir,  self:  U.  S.  A.,  When  you  receive  this 
epistle  you  will  be  far  away  from  the  scenes  which  now 
confront  you.  You  may  sometimes  think  you  have  it 
pretty  hard  staying  out  here  in  France  away  from  home 
and  loved  ones,  having  no  money,  dead  broke,  and  labor- 
ing without  pay,  and  often  getting  little  time  to  rest  or 
sleep.  But  listen,  son,  you  must  realize  that  you  are  at 
this  hour  in  the  very  midst  of  the  biggest  crisis  of  history. 
The  world  has  never  seen  such  a  moment  and  if  you  had 
missed  having  a  part  in  it  you  would  have  kicked  yourself 
throughout  eternity.  Your  own  little  life  anyway  is  not 
an  important  thing  to  the  world.  A  few  dollars  more 
and  a  position  of  ease  doesn't  make  any  difference,  and  if 
you  learn  the  lesson,  my  boy,  that  giving  yourself  in  a 
noble  cause  and  living  for  others,  is  the  greatest  thing  in 
life  you  will  have  found  happiness  and  gained  all  things. 
Please  take  this  little  suggestion  in  the  proper  spirit  and 
set  it  to  work.  Also  remember  that  never  again  in  your 
life  will  you  ever  get  a  reception  from  anyone  which  is 


88  "Back  From  Hell" 

SO  beautiful  as  that  which  the  French  people  are  giving 
you  right  at  this  hour -       ' 

At  this  moment  the  door  opened  and  a  hurry 
call  was  brought  in  for  three  hundred  wounded.  A 
great  battle  had  been  fought  and  our  boys  were 
needed  at  once.  I  stuck  the  letter  in  my  pocket  and 
went  out.  In  ten  minutes  we  were  on  the  road. 
Arriving  In  the  night  at  the  station  where  the  men 
were  to  be  brought  in  we  were  told  that  the  train 
would  not  arrive  for  at  least  an  hour  and  we  knew 
that  that  might  mean  six  hours,  as  It  often  did. 
Things  were  fairly  quiet  here,  but  now  and  then  we 
saw  the  shell  flashes  and  occasionally  heard  the 
booming  of  the  guns.  I  went  Into  a  little  structure 
nearby  prepared  to  wait  as  long  as  need  be.  While 
sitting  there  I  got  out  my  odd  French  stationery 
and  began  finishing  that  letter  to  myself.    I  wrote : 

And  may  that  beautiful  French  hospitality  always  be 
a  bright  spot  in  your  life.  And  when  your  time  comes  to 
"  shuffle  off  this  mortal  coil,"  whether  violently  or  peace- 
fully, may  you  remember  that  many  a  better  man  out  here 
has  done  so  courageously  for  a  heroic  cause.  Take  this 
to  yourself.    Good-bye. 

Sincerely, 

Your  Friend. 

I  folded  the  top  of  the  letter  down  over  the  bot- 
tom and  wet  the  edges  with  my  tongue,  pressing 


The  Verdun  Attack  89 

them  together,  and  put  it  in  my  pocket  ready  to 
mail.  I  had  just  turned  around  when  —  rip  — 
bang  —  a  monstrous  bomb  burst  right  in  the  block 
where  I  was  sitting,  tearing  a  hole  fifteen  inches  in 
diameter  right  through  the  roof,  and  totally  envel- 
oping everyone  in  blinding,  choking  dust.  The 
concussion  put  out  the  candle  and  as  I  had  no 
matches,  I  just  sat  there  half  dazed  for  several 
minutes  coughing  and  sneezing  and  wondering 
what  was  coming  next.  Finally  I  rubbed  my  eyes 
and  felt  my  way  out  of  the  place,  only  to  find  that 
one  of  the  cars  had  been  smashed  to  toothpicks 
by  the  shell  as  it  went  off. 

As  I  met  one  of  the  boys  he  said,  "  Where  were 
you?"  I  answered,  "Inside  writing  a  message  to 
myself  —  but  it  was  a  more  thrilling  message  to 
myself  that  came,  in  the  way  of  that  explosion." 

''Well,  I  should  think  so,"  he  replied.  ''Here- 
after you  had  better  not  bother  writing  to  yourself; 
next  time  I'd  write  to  the  other  fellow."  And  I 
thought  it  was  pretty  good  philosophy. 

Half  an  hour  later  the  trains  came  In,  bearing 
the  wounded  in  numbers.  By  working  until  one 
o'clock  next  day  without  any  food,  we  finally  got 
the  wounded  cared  for  and  distributed,  there  being 
400  of  them  Instead  of  300   as  first  reported. 


90  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

Providence,  however,  appears  to  have  seen  to  it 
that  men  do  not  suffer  when  engaged  In  work  of 
this  kind,  and  I  never  heard  any  of  the  men  com- 
plain of  being  hungry.  Sometimes,  however,  at  the 
stations,  kind  women  provided  coffee  and  sand- 
wiches for  the  ambulance  men  as  well  as  for  the 
wounded,  and  when  this  was  so  they  never  went 
amiss. 

Back  at  headquarters  one  day  an  amusing  inci- 
dent occurred.  I  had  bought  a  beautiful  French 
pipe  sometime  before  which  I  valued  greatly.  It 
happened,  however,  that  I  had  gone  out  one  after- 
noon and  left  It  lying  on  my  bed,  which  consisted 
of  a  straw  mattress  on  the  floor.  While  I  was 
gone  a  couple  of  French  pollus  had  come  in  to 
chat  with  the  other  boys.  One  of  the  pollus  had 
been  imbibing  a  bit  and  was  feeling  pretty  good, 
I  guess.  He  sat  down  on  my  bed  and  two  of  our 
boys  did  the  same,  thinking  to  talk  and  have  a 
little  fun  with  him.  While  the  Frenchman  was 
sitting  there  his  eye  fell  upon  that  pretty  pipe  of 
mine  and  he  picked  It  up  admiringly,  hinting  to  the 
boys  that  he  would  like  to  have  It.  They  told  him 
it  was  not  theirs  but  they  felt  sure  that  the  owner 
would  not  care  if  he  took  it.  So  he  put  It  in  his 
pocket  with  a  wink  and  laid  his  cheap,  smelly  one 


The  Verdun  Attack  91 

in  its  place.  He  then  noticed  a  little  yellow  cap 
on  the  bed.  It  was  a  sort  of  skullcap  affair  which 
the  boys  all  wore  when  sleeping  to  keep  their 
heads  warm.  When  Mr.  Poilu  saw  it  he  expressed 
a  desire  to  have  it  also.  The  boys  told  him  the 
cap  belonged  to  me  but  they  knew  I  would  willingly 
let  him  have  it.  He  took  the  cap  and  presently 
went  out. 

Imagine  my  chagrin  on  returning  at  being  told 
that  one  of  the  poUus  had  taken  my  treasured  pipe 
and  my  nightcap  I  I  did  not  care  so  much  for  the 
cap  but  I  was  very  sorry  to  lose  the  pipe.  I  knew 
that  the  boys  would  not  be  able  to  Identify  this 
one  man  among  all  those  hundreds  who  wore  long 
blue  coats  and  red  trousers.  But  fortune  was  kind. 
Early  the  next  morning  when  we  were  going  to 
breakfast,  we  passed  a  large  crowd  of  pollus,  and 
one  of  our  boys  began  to  laugh.  He  called  out, 
"  Benson,  there  goes  your  nightcap !  "  And  sure 
enough,  on  the  head  of  a  pollu,  sticking  down 
below  his  military  cap,  was  the  yellow  edge  of  my 
nightcap.  That  identified  my  man,  and  I  rushed 
gleefully  over  and  smilingly  said  in  my  execrable 
French,  "  Monsieur,  I  believe  I  have  your  pipe," 
holding  it  up  to  his  gaze.  He  took  it,  saying, 
"Yes;  thank  you."     But  he  did  not  offer  me  my 


92  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

pipe,  and  there  was  an  embarrassing  pause.  After 
a  moment  I  said,  "  Perhaps,  Monsieur,  you  have 
my  pipe?'*  He  smiled  again  and  said,  *'Yes," 
and  fished  it  out  of  his  pocket.  We  both  laughed, 
and  I  felt  so  good  that  I  did  not  ask  him  for  the 
cap.  He's  welcome  to  it.  But  as  for  the  pipe,  I 
now  prize  it  more  highly  than  before. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

BARRAGE,  OR  CURTAIN  FIRE 

AT  THIS  juncture  let  me  run  over  the  devel- 
opment of  barrage  fire  as  military  critics 
look  upon  and  explain  it. 

Petain,  the  great  French  general,  has  given 
expression  to  one  of  the  outstanding  facts  of  the 
present  war.  He  says,  "The  artillery  conquers, 
the  infantry  occupies.'*  This,  in  a  few  words,  is 
the  explanation  of  that  new  method  of  attack 
by  "  barrage  "  or,  as  the  English  call  it,  "  curtain 
fire." 

This  system  of  attacking  the  enemy  is  a  new 
one  and  has  proven  most  effective  for  the  Allies. 
In  a  nutshell,  it  creates  what  might  be  called  a 
danger  zone,  or,  better  still,  a  death  zone,  just  in 
front  of  the  advancing  soldiers.  As  the  soldiers 
move  on  ahead  the  barrage  moves  on,  or  it  may 
be  more  proper  to  say  that  the  soldiers  move  just 
as  slowly  as  the  curtain  of  fire  moves,  for  if  they 
do  not,  fatal  consequences  follow.  If  they  should 
go  too  fast  they  would  run  into  the  barrage  and 

93 


94  ''Back  From  Heir 

would  be  killed  by  their  own  artillery,  which  is  in 
the  rear  of  the  trenches.  Occasionally  a  soldier 
becomes  too  enthusiastic  and  goes  too  fast  for  the 
barrage,  and  then  disaster  follows.  Accuracy,  in 
time  and  in  range,  is  the  one  thing  which  must 
be  most  strictly  observed  by  the  men  who  are  con- 
ducting the  barrage  hundreds  of  yards  back  of  the 
line. 

These  men  project  a  hail  of  shells  over  the 
heads  of  their  own  infantry  and  across  a  thin 
strip  of  land  parallel  to  the  enemy's  trench  and 
directed  in  the  first  place  at  his  barbed-wire  de- 
fenses. This  line  or  belt  of  bursting  shells  must 
be  so  fierce  and  continuous  as  to  make  it  impossible 
for  any  man  to  go  through  it,  or  at  least  so  peril- 
ous and  costly  to  life  that  no  one  in  his  proper 
senses  would  try  the  hazardous  experiment.  It 
requires  a  rapid  firing  gun  for  this  kind  of  war- 
fare, and  as  armies  have  not  had  such  guns  here- 
tofore, of  course,  the  barrage  fire  was  unknown. 
It  is  one  of  the  new  things  that  have  been  evolved 
during  this  war.  The  French  soixante-quinze,  or 
"  seventy-five  millimeter,"  has  been  the  marvel  in 
gun  making  which  has  made  this  curtain  fire  possi- 
ble. It  is  a  gun  which  shoots  very  rapidly,  which 
does  not  displace  itself  each  time  it  shoots,  and 


Barrage,  or  Curtain  Fire  95 

which  is  able  to  discharge  an  average  of  twenty- 
five  three-inch  shells  every  minute  without  greatly 
heating  up.  No  gun  was  ever  invented  before 
which  could  accomplish  such  a  feat. 

The  older  four-inch  gun  of  the  French  Army, 
which  the  seventy-five  displaced,  could  never  have 
shown  the  efficiency  in  this  direction  that  the  soix- 
ante-quinze  demonstrates.  In  the  first  place  its 
rate  of  shooting  was  much  too  slow,  but  even  if  it 
had  been  a  great  deal  faster  a  continuous  accuracy 
was  impossible.  When  it  was  first  aimed  its  fire 
could  be  carefully  controlled,  but  the  trouble  with 
it  was  it  threw  itself  out  of  place  every  time  it  shot. 
The  recoil  from  such  guns  is  very  considerable  and 
the  older  gun  made  no  provision  for  it,  conse- 
quently it  had  to  be  aimed  all  over  again  every 
time  it  was  fired  because  the  rebound  caused  it 
to  dig  into  the  earth  and  change  its  entire  posi- 
tion. The  new  soixante-quinze  makes  careful 
provision  for  this  factor  of  recoil  and  is  fitted  up 
like  a  Ford  car  with  shock  absorbers,  so  that  it  is 
ready  for  the  second  shot  as  soon  as  the  first  is 
fired,  and  for  the  third  as  soon  as  the  second  is 
fired.  It  maintains  a  fixed  position,  accelerating 
very  greatly  the  speed  at  which  it  can  be  fired  at 
any  given  target.    The  old  four-inch  gun  fell  down 


96 ''Back  From  Heir' 

just  here.  The  result  was  that  its  highest  rate  of 
speed  was  only  a  quarter  of  that  which  could  be 
attained  when  a  field  piece  was  invented,  absorbing 
its  recoil  and  thus  leaving  its  position  unchanged. 
The  only  limit  to  the  speed  of  the  new  gun,  there- 
fore. Is  the  rate  at  which  it  can  be  loaded  and  the 
degree  of  temperature  it  can  stand  without  explod- 
ing shells  prematurely,  but  even  this  latter  danger 
is  provided  for  in  this  gun,  thus  keeping  it  to  the 
minimum.  The  only  elements  that  prevent  abso- 
lute accuracy  today  are  slight  differences  in  the 
shells  or  perhaps  a  change  of  wind,  which  are, 
however,  practically  negligible  factors. 

Formerly,  in  the  use  of  the  other  gun  there  was 
the  personal  variation  of  the  man  who  aimed  the 
gun  quickly,  after  each  shot  had  displaced  or  dis- 
arranged it,  and  the  other  man  who  assisted  him. 
Each  new  aiming  and  shooting  of  the  piece  re- 
quired an  absolutely  distinct  series  of  movements 
and  thus  for  every  shot  there  was  that  much  more 
possibility  of  error  on  account  of  the  imperfect  co- 
ordinating of  the  two  men  engaged.  In  this  con- 
nection let  me  say  that  the  curtain  fire,  which  was 
evolved  by  the  modern  quick  firing  seventy-five, 
was  very  soon  discovered  and  quickly  adopted  and 
utilized  by  Germany  also. 


Barrage,  or  Curtain  Fire  97 

When  first  used  the  purpose  of  curtain  fire  was 
simply  to  guard  or  make  possible  the  forward 
movement  of  the  infantry  and  was  kept  well  ahead 
of  them,  usually  one  or  two  hundred  yards.  It 
was  also  uniform  all  along  the  line  as  far  as  it 
extended;  that  is,  if  it  moved  ahead  a  hundred  feet 
at  one  point  it  moved  the  same  amount  at  every 
other  point.  It  is  a  ticklish  thing  at  first  for  men 
to  advance  upon  the  enemy's  trenches  with  their 
own  artillery  booming  away  at  their  rear  and 
shooting  right  over  their  own  heads.  But  the 
trenches  are  seldom  parallel.  Often  the  country 
is  rough  and  whereas  the  enemy  may  be  dug  in  a 
hundred  yards  away  at  one  point,  it  may  be  that 
fifty  rods  farther  down  the  lines,  the  trenches  are 
three  hundred  yards  apart.  In  the  main  we  speak 
of  the  lines  being  parallel,  but  as  a  matter  of  fact 
they  very  seldom  are  so. 

During  the  early  days  of  the  war  if  one  of  the 
opponents  were  going  to  make  an  attack  he  ham- 
mered the  enemy's  position  with  heavy  guns  which 
were  concealed  or  camouflaged  perhaps  ^vt  miles 
behind  the  front  line  trenches.  The  bombardment 
lasted  until  it  was  assumed  most  of  the  enemy's 
soldiers  had  taken  refuge  in  the  dugouts  and 
were  so  disorganized  that  they  could  not  effectively 


98  ''Back  From  Heir' 

resist.  Besides  this  his  trenches  would  be  so  bat- 
tered that  the  chances  of  success  for  the  well- 
planned  assault  would  be  the  best.  The  time 
must  be  accurately  arranged  previously.  All  lieu- 
tenants and  captains  who  directed  the  barrage 
must  keep  exact  time  and  have  watches  timed  to 
the  second.  My  own  brother,  Brenton,  is  now  a 
lieutenant  of  artillery  and  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
presenting  him  with  a  beautiful  stop-watch  before 
he  went  into  action. 

At  the  given  signal  the  barrage  raised  and  the 
doughboys  went  over  the  top,  hustled  down  the 
lanes  which  had  been  previously  cut  in  their  own 
barbed  wire  by  the  wiring  party,  made  their  way 
across  No  Man's  Land,  stooping  low  as  they  went, 
dropping  flat  to  the  ground  every  few  yards,  and 
trying  to  get  to  the  trenches  of  the  enemy  before 
they  could  be  stopped. 

But  the  machine  guns  of  the  enemy  were  found 
to  be  too  formidable  and  destructive,  and  as  a 
result  of  this  experience  they  learned  to  use  the 
light  artillery  which  could  continue  its  fire  even 
while  the  attacking  party  were  moving  on,  advanc- 
ing as  they  advanced.  The  lighter  field  pieces  were 
placed  within  a  few  hundred  yards  in  the  rear  of 
the  trenches  and  used  to  blind  the  Germans  from 


Barrage,  or  Curtain  Fire  99 

protecting  themselves,  as  well  as  to  cover  the  ad- 
vancing troops  until  they  took  the  trenoh.  Then 
the  curtain  fire  was  thrown  still  farther  back  be- 
hind the  German  line. 

This  process  plainly  was  a  very  delicate  one, 
even  in  its  beginning.  It  seemed  a  little  nervy  to 
order  soldiers  to  advance  while  above  their  heads 
hissed  and  barked  their  own  gunners'  shells.  Some- 
times these  would  burst  before  they  got  to  the  cur- 
tain line  and  casualties  would  inevitably  result.  It 
was  rather  ticklish  business  for  the  men  to  charge 
forward  even  if  they  were  a  couple  of  hundred 
yards  behind  such  a  hail  of  steel. 

Soon,  however,  another  improvement  was  put 
into  effect  and  that  was  to  shorten  the  barrage  to 
sixty  yards,  letting  the  soldiers  advance  with 
the  exploding  shells  nearer  and  nearer  to  their  own 
bodies.  Of  course,  there  was  great  advantage  in 
this,  as  the  closer  the  troops  were  to  the  curtain 
fire  ahead,  the  better  they  were  protected  and  the 
shorter  was  the  time  after  the  curtain  was  lifted 
until  the  troops  occupied  the  trench.  Cutting  this 
time  down  to  the  minimum  made  it  so  much  harder 
for  the  Germans  to  emerge  from  their  hiding  and 
resist  the  oncoming  troops.  The  science  of  this 
was  at  last  so  well  worked  out  that  a  gap  of  less 


lOO  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

than  forty  yards  lay  between  the  curtain  and  the 
troops  and  sometimes  only  thirty  yards  which 
could  be  covered  In  a  couple  of  seconds  after  the 
barrage  was  lifted*  Time,  of  course,  is  the  chief 
element  in  the  endeavor  to  get  the  bulge  on  the 
other  fellow. 

Finally  the  British  worked  out  what  they  call 
the  "creeping  barrage.'*  This  takes  into  account 
the  fact  that  the  trenches  are  never  exactly  straight 
and  parallel.  But  here  the  camera  came  to  the 
aid  of  the  Allies  and  It  told  them  just  how  much 
deviation  from  the  parallel  there  was.  From 
these  photographs  the  relative  positions  of  the 
trenches  at  any  given  point  were  plotted  out  accu- 
rately, showing  the  Irregular  shape  of  No  Man's 
Land  and  the  variation  of  Its  width  at  all  the  dif- 
ferent places.  The  Allies  then  dug  identical 
trenches  in  the  rear  and  practiced  on  them.  This 
changed  the  method  of  curtain  fire  from  "  regu- 
lar" to  "creeping."  From  that  time  the  barrage 
started  in  a  line  which  first  followed  the  shape  of 
our  own  fire  trench,  but  as  it  moved  forward  the 
configuration  was  altered  and  it  swayed  and  wrig- 
gled like  a  snake  gradually  taking  the  shape  of  the 
enemy's  trench.  Plainly,  it  required  much  deeper 
skill  to  employ  this  method,  but  its  advantages 


Barrage,  or  Gurilit'fi,  pirtJ ,   ;  ,     mOi. 

were  great.  Instead  of  all  the  gunners  shooting 
in  unison  at  a  single  command,  each  one  had 
a  different  job  to  perform  in  order  to  make  the 
barrage  conform  with  the  angle  which  the  trenches 
made.  This  is  now  the  general  method  and  has 
been  brought  up  to  a  marvelous  degree  of  accu- 
racy as  well  as  speed. 

At  practically  the  same  time  the  creeping 
barrage  was  conceived,  another  idea  which  has 
also  been  extremely  useful  was  developed.  This 
was  the  second  curtain  of  fire  to  be  thrown  in  the 
rear  of  the  enemy's  trenches  to  cut  off  his  retreat 
and  to  prevent  the  coming  up  of  reinforcements. 
The  first  curtain  covered  your  advance  and  hin- 
dered his  resistance,  and  the  second  one  beyond 
him  kept  new  forces  from  coming  to  his  aid  with 
food,  munitions,  and  information. 

The  method  which  is  used  almost  universally 
In  attacking  today,  then,  is  this. 

Big  guns  *'  prepare ''  the  way  by  hammering  the 
trenches  of  the  enemy  and  simultaneously  driving 
him  to  the  dugouts  and  bashing  In  the  trenches 
which  shelter  him.  Your  doughboys  then  go  "  over 
the  top  "  and  advance,  covered  by  the  curtain  fire, 
at  first  conforming  In  shape  to  their  own  trenches, 
and  little  by  little  wriggling  Into  the  form  of  the 


im   ' :  ;       '/IBmk  Rrom  Heir' 

enemy's  trenches  as  it  comes  nearer  to  them. 
Closely  following  the  moving  barrage  is  your  in- 
fantry. Then  another  barrage  in  the  enemy's  rear 
is  cutting  him  off  from  reinforcements  and  after 
a  time  the  trench  is  captured  and  perhaps  many 
prisoners  taken.  It  Is  hot  hard  to  understand  from 
this  modern  method  of  attack  what  the  French  gen- 
eral meant  when  he  said,  "The  artillery  conquers, 
the  infantry  occupies." 

Barraging  on  the  field  today  is  much  the  same 
as  running  a  great  ocean  liner.  The  man  who  sees 
is  not  the  man  who  does !  The  lookout  or  observer 
has  nothing  to  do  with  the  actual  control  of  the 
vessel.  The  battery  on  the  field  is  pulled  up  into 
position  by  horses,  then  lined  up  for  action  and 
the  horses  are  hurried  back  to  a  safe  place.  The 
lieutenant  directs  the  fire  and  the  gunners  do  the 
firing,  but  no  one  sees  his  target  or  his  results. 
Just  behind  them,  a  telephone  operator  receives 
the  messages,  sitting  perhaps,  in  a  shell  hole  or 
a  dugout.  The  battery  commander  is  the  man 
who  really  bosses  the  whole  job  from  his  obser- 
vation post.  He  is  well  named  because  he  really 
commands  the  battery,  though  from  a  position 
perhaps  miles  in  front  of  the  battery.  The  lieu- 
tenant Is  always  listening  as  the  telephone  opera- 


Barrage,  or  Curtain  Fire  103 

tor  is  getting  his  instructions  from  the  commander 
at  the  front.  In  the  first  place  the  lieutenant 
learns  roughly  the  direction  in  which  to  shoot, 
but  soon  he  gets  more  detailed  direction  before 
firing  his  first  shot,  which  is  in  reality  an  experi- 
ment. Standing  a  short  distance  behind  the  bat- 
tery, he  plainly  sees  every  gun.  Then  he  shouts, 
"  Ready  I  "  When  the  command  to  fire  comes  over 
the  telephone  he  issues  a  signal.  The  man  at  the 
first  gun  raises  his  hand,  five  seconds  are  counted, 
and  as  he  drops  his  hand  the  gun  is  fired.  Gun 
number  two  does  the  same  and  ^o  on  down  the 
line.  The  gunner  cannot  see  and  does  not  know 
anything  about  the  result.  The  man  at  the  tele- 
phone calls  out,  "  Battery  has  fired." 

The  only  man  in  all  this  operation  who  gives 
orders  and  sees  results  Is  the  battery  commander. 
Usually  he  can  see  the  target  clearly.  Sometimes, 
however,  when  this  is  not  possible  the  balloon  and 
the  airplane  have  to  do  it  for  him.  The  battery 
commander  with  the  telephone  operator  in  his 
rear  knows  exactly  the  way  the  guns  are  pointed 
and  the  distance  to  be  covered.  He  can  estimate 
quickly  and  figure  up  the  necessary  corrections, 
and  this  message  may  go  back  to  the  battery,  "  One 
hundred  yards  over  and  fifty  yards  to  the  right." 


I04  ''Back  From  Heir 

The  sergeants  then  again  revolve  their  control 
wheels. 

The  Good  Book  says,  *'A  great  ship  is  turned 
about  by  a  very  small  helm."  And  so  does  a  great 
gun  respond  very  quickly  to  the  most  delicate 
touch  of  the  wheel.  The  gauge  is  very  fine  and 
accurate  and  a  hair's  difference  there  means  rods 
of  difference  where  the  shell  falls.  If  the  initial 
shot  went  a  hundred  yards  over,  perhaps  the  sec- 
ond goes  one  hundred  yards  too  short.  The  direc- 
tion is  correct.  Again  in  obedience  to  a  message 
from  the  commander  the  little  wheels  move,  and 
the  elevation  of  the  gun  is  corrected.  The 
third  shell,  perhaps,  goes  over  fifty  yards  and  the 
fourth  fifty  under.  Very  well,  the  range  is  some- 
where between  those  last  two  shots.  "Give  'em 
hell.  Salvo  I  "  shouts  the  lieutenant :  salvo  mean- 
ing the  firing  of  all  the  guns  at  one  time. 

Sometimes  it  is  not  practical  to  have  an  observa- 
tion post  located  so  as  to  allow  the  commander 
of  the  battery  to  see  the  result  and  direct  the  shell 
fire.  In  this  case  he  has  a  balloon  which  is  fastened 
to  the  earth  by  a  cable  and  sent  up  behind  the  lines 
and  out  of  range  of  the  Germans.  At  best  it  is 
an  uncomfortable  position  to  be  in ;  hung  up  in  a 
basket  maybe   four  thousand   feet  above   terra 


Barrage,  or  Curtain  Firs  105 

firma,  with  German  fliers  hovering  about  and  try- 
ing to  blow  you  into  eternity.  It's  not  soothing  to 
the  nerves  to  say  the  least,  even  though  you  know 
that  if  the  balloon  takes  fire,  you  have  a  parachute 
to  drop  with. 

Again  the  enemy's  battery  may  be  situated  so 
that  the  balloon  man  cannot  find  its  location.  In 
this  case  the  airplane  solves  the  problem,  for  it 
goes  to  any  desired  height,  then  scouts  over  the 
enemy's  trenches  and  does  the  "spotting."  Of 
course,  communication  with  an  airplane  is  not  as 
easy  as  with  a  balloon  which  has  wires  running  to 
it,  but  the  airplane  can  send  wireless  messages 
down,  which  are  received  on  the  earth,  and  to 
make  up  for  the  impossibility  of  the  aviator  receiv- 
ing them  in  return,  owing  to  the  noise  of  his 
powerful  motor,  the  men  on  the  ground  use  a  sys- 
tem of  signals  like  the  wigwag  flag  method.  This 
is  done  by  large  panels  which  are  in  distinct  con- 
trast to  their  background,  and  move  according  to 
a  certain  code. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  RAGPICKER 

THE  salvage  from  a  modern  battle  is  a  thing 
which  I  suppose  few  people  ever  stop  to 
think  about.  Where  hundreds  upon  hundreds  of 
thousands  of  men  have  been  engaged  in  shooting 
iron  and  steel  as  fast  as  they  can  fire  it,  the  amount  of 
these  metals  which  lies  about  is  something  almost 
beyond  conception.  And  the  amount  too,  which 
buries  itself  beneath  the  surface  of  the  earth  is 
enormous.  The  money  value  and  military  worth 
of  these  vast  quantities  of  metal  is  also  a  thing 
which  must  be  taken  into  consideration.  A  battle 
field  today  is  little  less  than  a  great  ocean  of  craters 
which  oftentimes  touch  one  another.  Most  people, 
if  they  thought  about  it  at  all,  would  take  it  for 
granted  that  this  debris,  this  wastage,  has  gone 
back  to  earth  from  whence  it  came,  there  to  re- 
main until  the  elements  in  the  soil  and  water  disin- 
tegrate and  metamorphose  the  metals  from  their 
present  form  back  to  their  original  state  In  the 
bowels  of  the  earth.  But  this  is  usually  not  the  case. 

io6 


The  Ragpicker  107 


Walking  over  a  battle  ground  after  a  severe 
fight  you  may  see  thousands  of  shells  which  have 
never  been  shot  because  the  regiment  to  which 
they  belonged  was  obliged  to  retreat  posthaste, 
leaving  these  as  well  as  other  valuable  material 
behind.  Frequently  the  Germans,  having  been 
forced  out  of  their  positions,  have  abandoned  thou- 
sands of  unexploded  shells  and  hand  grenades. 
Bayonets  lie  around  topsy-turvy  and  helmets  by 
the  hundreds  are  to  be  seen  on  every  hand.  Mod- 
ern rifles  dropped  by  hands  that  will  never  hold  an- 
other and  cartridges  not  fired  because  the  company 
went  forward,  perhaps  when  the  Germans  beat  a 
hasty  retreat,  are  the  commonest  of  sights  upon 
almost  every  battle  field  in  Europe.  Certainly  all 
of  this  necessary  and  vital  material  cannot  be 
wasted.  It  must  not  be  allowed  to  lie  unused  when 
it  is  so  essential  to  the  army. 

Instead,  it  Is  picked  up  and  sorted  out,  classified 
and  cleaned,  and  prepared  to  be  used  again.  Much 
of  It  IS  too  dangerous  to  be  left  lying  about  and 
most  of  it  is  too  valuable  to  be  ignored.  There- 
fore squads  of  men  are  organized,  made  up  often- 
times of  the  older  soldiers,  and  a  few  days  after 
an  engagement  you  can  see  them  groping  about  the 
earth  and  stooping  over  the  shell-scarred  ground 


io8  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

carefully  examining  it  in  a  most  minute  and  pains- 
taking manner. 

In  America  the  scavenger,  the  ragpicker,  and 
the  garbage  man  are  looked  upon  as  very  low  in 
the  scale  of  social  refinement,  but  these  ragpickers 
of  the  battle  field  are  honored  and  respected  by  the 
French  Army,  because  they  are  conserving  the  ma- 
terials which  are  most  vital  to  the  success  of  the 
Republic.  Much  risk  is  also  encountered  in  this 
work  of  salvage  and  not  infrequently  these  men 
lose  their  lives,  for  shells  from  the  German  guns 
often  go  beyond  their  mark. 

When  stores  of  supplies  are  found  in  good  con- 
dition, of  course  they  are  used  at  once,  if  possible, 
but  much  of  the  material  must  be  sent  back  in  mo- 
tor lorries  to  be  sorted  and  remade.  Some  concep- 
tion of  the  economic  saving  accomplished  by  this 
work  may  be  formed  when  you  consider  that  after 
one  battle  many  tons  of  copper  were  gathered  up 
and  loaded  and  sent  back  to  the  rear.  Thousands 
of  tons  of  steel  and  iron  were  also  rescued  In  the 
same  locality  and  in  addition  hundreds  of  rifles 
with  millions  of  rounds  of  ammunition.  Of  course 
these  materials  are  remolded  and  then  go  back  once 
more  to  Mother  Earth  where  much  of  it  will  again 
be  picked  up.     At  the   close   of  the   war,   the 


The  Ragpicker  109 


land  which  is  now  being  fought  over  will  be  of 
little  value  for  agricultural  purposes  because  it  has 
been  so  tortured  and  mangled  by  the  digging  of 
trenches  and  the  gougings  of  the  shell  holes,  but 
it  will  be  exceedingly  valuable  on  account  of  the 
steel  and  copper  which  are  buried  there. 

Scientists  tell  us  that  nothing  is  in  reality  ever 
lost  or  wasted  and  a  battle  field  gives  a  most  strik- 
ing illustration  of  this  law  of  the  indestructibility 
of  matter.  We  are  prone  to  say  that  war  is  all 
waste,  and  that  the  enormous  quantities  of  iron 
and  steel,  trees  and  horses  (and  even  men),  which 
are  used  up  become  a  fearful  waste  in  nature.  Yet 
it  is  literally  true  as  a  thoughtful  Irishman  said 
to  me  in  France,  "  Nature  protects  the  land."  In 
other  words,  Mother  Earth  from  which  every- 
thing comes  protects  and  perpetuates  herself  so 
that  no  nation  or  generation  can  destroy  her.  All 
trees  which  are  battered  to  pieces  and  all  the  flesh 
which  decays  and  rots,  go  back  to  earth  once  more 
to  fertilize  and  season  it  so  that  in  the  next 
generation  it  will  bring  forth  and  bear  plentifully. 
As  the  Good  Book  says :  "  All  go  to  one  place ;  all 
is  of  the  dust.  The  body  returneth  to  the  earth 
as  it  was  and  the  spirit  returneth  unto  God  who 
gave  It." 


[iio  ''Back  From  Heir 

There  Is  no  waste  in  the  material  universe.  The 
only  waste  which  comes  from  war  materially  is  for 
the  present  generation  in  that  things  which  were 
in  a  form  which  we  could  use  have  been  changed 
to  a  form  less  useful  but  which  will  be  used  some- 
time again.  The  great  waste  of  war  as  I  look  at 
it  is  the  moral  and  spiritual  waste  where  men  be- 
come fiends  and  go  out  to  conquer  and  steal  and 
rape  and  kill,  thus  using  up  their  spiritual  powers 
and  possibilities  in  destructive  enterprises  which 
might  have  been  put  toward  constructive  elevation 
of  the  race.  Men  lose  their  souls  Instead  of  saving 
them.  And  yet — the  fiendlshness  of  one  country 
brings  out  the  angel  of  the  other  In  causing  men 
to  rouse  to  duty  and  to  honor  and  justice,  whereas 
without  this  incentive  who  knows  but  that  we 
might  sink  down  in  self-sufficiency  and  retrograde, 
thus  all  of  us  losing  our  souls?  It  seems  that  all 
through  God's  universe  there  is  struggle  and  strife, 
and  that  moral  and  spiritual  fiber  require  these 
things  for  their  best  development. 

The  work  of  Christ,  Christianity,  prospered  be- 
cause It  had  to  struggle  for  existence,  and  when 
a  nation  or  an  individual  ceases  to  struggle  it  goes 
backward.  This  thought  may  be  a  Job's  com- 
forter to  those  who  pay  the  fearful  price  and  yet 


The  Ragpicker  in 


we  must  look  at  it  in  this  way.  Men  must  fight  to 
get  the  highest  freedom,  not  lie  back  and  accept 
their  fate,  else  they  have  only  the  freedom  of  the 
Germans  under  the  Hohenzollerns.  There  is  al- 
ways some  remnant  of  salvage  out  of  the  most 
fearful  waste.    Thus  earth  goes  in  a  cycle. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

CAMOUFLAGE 

THE  system  of  camouflage  which  the  French 
have  worked  out  in  this  war,  is  something 
new  also.  The  word  has  come  to  mean  in  America 
"  dodging,"  "  deception,"  *'  bunk,"  or  anything  that 
is  not  out  in  the  open  and  above  board;  and  that 
is  just  what  camouflage  means  in  the  war  in 
France.  It  Is  a  method  by  which  things  are  made 
to  appear  to  be  what  they  are  not,  for  the  purpose 
of  fooling  the  enemy.  It  makes  an  artificial  thing 
seem  to  be  a  natural  thing  so  that  it  will  not  excite 
suspicion  and  draw  his  fire.  When  the  French 
place  a  battery  of  guns  which  naturally  they  do  not 
want  put  out  of  commission  by  the  enemy's  guns, 
they  have  the  camouflage  artist  get  busy  with  his 
paint  and  canvas  and  create  a  whole  lot  of  little 
trees  or  bushes  just  like  the  ones  which  grow  in  the 
ground  and  then  under  cover  of  darkness  when 
the  enemy  can't  see  them,  or  when  his  attention  is 
distracted,  they  plant  the  trees,  place  the  guns  be- 
hind them,  and  they  have  a  concealed  battery. 

112 


Camouflage  113 


Snipers  are  also  often  hidden  in  this  same  kind 
of  a  manner.  The  camoufleur  with  his  magic  art 
of  scenery  makes  a  dead  horse.  He  has  his  head 
stretched  way  out  on  the  ground  and  his  legs  point- 
ing up  in  the  air,  stiff  and  stark.  A  great  hole  or 
chunk  has  been  torn  out  of  his  body,  but  as  it  hap- 
pens, it  is  never  right  through  the  middle  part  of 
him  because  this  would  not  leave  protection  for  the 
sniper.  The  horse  "conveniently"  had  the  shell 
strike  him  on  the  side.  He  is  placed  wherever  he 
will  do  the  most  good  in  the  night  time  and  Mr. 
Sharpshooter,  with  his  noiseless  rifle  and  plenty 
of  ammunition  and  one  day's  food,  crawls  in  be- 
hind him.  There  he  stays  till  daybreak.  Yes,  and 
a  long  while  after.  He  must  stay  there  all  day 
long  until  darkness  again  draws  down  a  curtain  of 
safety  about  him,  for  if  he  attempted  to  move 
out  in  daylight  some  sniper  or  machine-gun  artist 
would  instantly  pick  him  off.  If  he  lays  low  till 
dark  he  may  fool  them  and  get  away  all  right. 

But  the  camera  sometimes  discovers  things 
which  the  human  eye  would  not  detect,  and  the 
camera  is  always  busy.  The  air  flier  might  soar 
above  a  spot  in  the  enemy's  lines  and  not  notice 
anything  wrong  or  see  that  there  was  any  object 
in  addition  to  what  was  there  the  day  before,  but 


114  ''Back  From  Heir' 

when  he  snapped  the  shutter  of  his  camera  and  the 
photograph  was  developed,  by  comparing  it  with 
yesterday's  photograph  of  the  same  place,  he  might 
see  that  there  was  an  extra  horse's  carcass  lying 
there.  Now  he  knows  there  was  no  cavalry  charge 
through  the  night,  and  so  he  becomes  suspicious. 
Consequently  the  horse  is  watched.  Perhaps  in 
time,  some  one  sees  the  man's  arm  protruding  a 
little,  or  perhaps  a  man  is  picked  off  without  any 
apparent  cause. 

Just  for  luck  the  enemy  takes  a  shot  at  the  old 
dead  horse  and  suddenly  a  man  rises  and  tries  to 
run  back.  But  he  stumbles  and  falls.  He  is  killed. 
Perhaps  he  has  accounted  for  a  half  a  dozen  Boches 
during  the  day  and  the  Frenchman  dies  happy. 
That's  what  he's  there  for,  to  sacrifice  his  life  for 
France  in  weakening  Germany's  cruel  hold  upon 
his  country. 

If  it  was  certain  that  they  could  account  for 
such  a  proportion  of  Germans,  ten  thousand 
Frenchmen  would  willingly  step  out  tomorrow  and 
go  into  sure  death  for  La  Belle  France  and  Lib- 
erty I  Very  often  they  camouflage  roads  with  ever- 
green trees  so  as  to  hide  the  view  of  the  motor 
lorries  and  camions  which  are  so  essential  in  tak- 
ing supplies  and  ammunition  up  to  the  front.    An 


Camouflage  115 


old  forlorn  and  battered  gun  may  camouflage  a 
fine  new  field  piece,  and  sometimes  a  weather- 
beaten,  broken-down  piece  of  farm  machinery  may 
be  counterfeited  In  order  to  hide  an  observer,  a  lis- 
tener, or  a  sniper.  Such  a  man  must  be  of  a  stout 
heart  and  not  afraid  to  go  over  the  Great  Divide 
for  it  is  full  of  hazard.  If  he  is  discovered  it's  all 
over  for  him. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  HEROISM  OF  THE  WOUNDED 

ONE  poor  fellow  whose  feet  were  bare,  at- 
tracted my  attention.  When  I  looked  at  him 
more  carefully  I  noticed  that  he  had  no  shirt  and  I 
asked  him  what  had  happened  to  him  and  what 
had  become  of  his  clothes.  At  first  he  did  not 
want  to  tell  me,  but  when  I  inquired  again,  with  a 
kind  of  embarrassed  and  self-conscious  look  upon 
his  face  Louis  related  this  tale  to  me. 

His  old  acquaintance  and  fellow-townsman, 
Paul,  was  In  the  same  company  with  him.  Back 
in  the  little  home  town  before  the  war  they  had 
been  enemies.  They  had  both  been  bad  men, 
crooks  and  drunkards,  and  had  at  one  time  tried  to 
kill  each  other.  For  years  they  had  hated  and  had 
as  little  to  do  with  each  other  as  possible.  It  all 
started  over  an  insignificant  something,  but  never- 
theless the  dislike  had  grown  until  It  had  become 
very  bitter  and  each  was  continually  on  the  lookout 
to  find  a  chance  to  do  the  other  a  mean  turn  when 
possible.    They  had  cursed  each  other  many  a  time 

zi6 


The  Heroism  of  the  Wounded        117 

when  their  paths  crossed,  but  as  far  as  possible 
they  had  tried  to  avoid  meeting.  But  when  the 
war  came  they  had  been  placed  together  side  by 
side  as  comrades  In  the  battle.  Their  officers 
had  told  them  that  they  were  not  to  think  of  self 
now,  because  their  fight  was  for  La  Belle  France, 
Day  after  day  they  drilled  together  and  week 
after  week  performed  the  hard  labor  which  was 
allotted  them,  side  by  side,  until  at  last  they  out- 
grew their  ancient  antipathy,  and  finally  became 
bosom  friends.  Then  they  were  sent  to  the 
trenches.  Together  they  held  the  line  In  the  same 
fire  bay,  and  hour  after  hour  both  looked  Into 
the  muzzles  of  the  German  guns.  They  had  on 
different  occasions  gone  "over  the  top"  together, 
and  neither  of  them  had  been  hurt  at  all.  At 
last,  however,  early  one  morning  when  the  Ger- 
mans made  a  mighty  charge,  fate  was  against  both. 
The  bombardment  had  been  blinding  and  when 
the  Boches  came  tearing  "  over  the  top ''  these  two 
sturdy  poilus  stood  their  ground  and  held  the 
enemy  back.  A  German  was  just  about  to  make 
a  lunge  at  Louis  when  Paul,  with  a  spring,  jumped 
in  front  of  him,  receiving  a  bayonet  thrust  In  his 
lung,  and  also  a  terrible  wound  In  his  ankle.  Louis 
had  been  painfully  wounded  In  his  left  shoulder. 


ii8  ''Back  From  Heir 

His  wound  was  not  dangerous  but  Paul  was  about 
"  done  in,"  and  was  breathing  hard  as  he  had  lost 
a  large  amount  of  blood  from  the  hole  in  the  lower 
part  of  his  leg.  Here  the  narrator's  eyes  began  to 
fill  with  tears. 

"  I  couldn't  let  the  poor  fellow  bleed  to  death 
after  he  had  saved  my  life.  I  tore  up  my  shirt 
into  bandages  and  tied  them  around  his  leg,  and 
then  so  they  would  not  come  off  and  also  to  keep 
his  feet  warm  I  took  my  socks  and  pulled  them  on 
his  feet.  What  else  could  I  do  ?  I  tried  to  fix  up 
his  injured  lung  also,  but  — "  and  then  the  tears 
burst  forth  and  he  sobbed  like  a  baby.  "  It  didn't 
do  any  good  and  Paul  lies  over  there  now."  I 
glanced  over  in  the  direction  where  he  pointed  and 
sure  enough  there  was  Paul,  bandaged  up  with 
strips  of  shirt  and  wearing  a  pair  of  socks  over 
the  bandages.  But  the  black  angel  had  already 
come  to  him.    He  had  "  gone  West." 

I  talked  with  the  man  a  little  more  and  he 
opened  up  his  heart  to  me.  At  best  life  is  a  strange 
thing  to  understand.  Here  were  two  human  be- 
ings who  previously,  by  heredity  or  environment, 
or  else  their  own  devilishness,  had  been  evil  char- 
acters. They  were  known  as  such  by  their  ac- 
quaintances and  they  knew  each  other  as  such. 


The  Heroism  of  the  Wounded        119 

Their  lives  had  been  unenviable  to  say  the  least, 
and  then  at  last  through  war,  that  fearful  and  awful 
thing,  each  man  had  been  made  better  and  the 
angel  had  come  out  of  what  before  seemed  a  devil. 
Not  only  was  Paul  a  bad  man  but  he  had  hated 
the  other  man  and  yet  here  he  was  doing  a  noble 
and  self-sacrificing  deed  and  not  only  that,  but 
doing  it  for  his  enemy;  giving  up  his  life  for  his 
old  foe. 

And  here  was  the  other  man,  showing  a  grati- 
tude which  was  noble  towards  the  man  he  had 
hated  and  who  had  tried  to  kill  him.  He  gave 
up  his  own  shirt  and  took  off  his  own  socks  to 
try  to  keep  warm  the  feet  of  the  dying  Paul  and 
to  keep  the  blood,  which  meant  life,  in  his  body. 
It  did  not  accomplish  the  result  but  my  narrator 
would  not  take  back  his  socks  as  he  said  he  wanted 
the  man  who  died  for  him  to  have  this  little  gift 
and  be  buried  in  them.  Such  heroism  is  not  un- 
common in  the  trenches. 

After  all  there  are  some  compensations  even 
for  war.  In  many  instances  it  may  bring  out  all 
the  hate  and  the  hell  that  is  in  a  man's  heart  but  I 
have  also  seen  hundreds  of  cases  where  it  made 
men  much  better  than  they  had  ever  been  before. 
It  made  them  better  men  and  better  Christians; 


I20  ''Back  From  Heir' 

not  necessarily  of  the  shouting  type  but  of  the 
kind,  of  which  One  said:  "He  that  giveth  a  cup 
of  cold  water  to  one  of  these  little  ones,  shall 
not  lose  his  reward,"  and  again,  "Greater  love 
hath  no  man  than  this,  that  a  man  lay  down  his  life 
for  his  friend." 

But  someone  may  think  I  am  preaching.  Well, 
if  I  am,  I  am  preaching  the  gospel  of  service  and 
sacrifice,  which  to  my  mind  is  the  greatest  gospel 
there  is  to  preach  at  the  present  critical  hour.  I 
am  trying  to  tell  men  that  they  can  be  better  men 
wherever  they  are  if  they  will  it  so.  I  have  known 
men  to  go  over  there  from  various  walks  of  life, 
some  of  them  from  wealthy  homes  and  high  sala- 
ried positions  to  engage  in  this  or  that  line  of  work, 
perhaps  relieving  suffering  without  getting  any- 
thing for  their  labor,  and  yet  boast  that  they  had 
received  more  than  they  had  ever  gotten  in  their 
lives  before,  and  it  was  true.  They  developed  a 
feeling  of  kinship  for  the  suffering,  and  a  satisfac- 
tion in  assuaging  their  pain  which  was  a  greater 
compensation  than  anything  they  had  ever  had  or 
could  ever  have  expected.  I  have  known  men 
to  go  over  in  the  very  trenches  themselves  and 
there  learn  the  lesson  of  self-control  and  hu- 
mility which  is  in  reality  learning  to  respect  the 


The  Heroism  of  the  Wounded         121 

rights  of  other  people;  men  who  formerly  had 
been  accustomed  to  having  their  own  way  in 
life. 

Out  there  tonight  there  are  wealthy  land  owners 
standing  knee  deep  in  mud  and  water,  side  by  side 
with  their  own  stable  boys  and  treating  them  on  an 
absolute  equality  with  themselves.  It's  a  matter 
of  life  and  death  out  there,  and  after  all  when  it 
gets  down  to  that  very  little  else  counts.  A  stable 
boy's  bullet  from  the  enemy's  lines  will  pick  off 
the  wealthy  magnate  as  quick  as  any  other's,  and 
the  rich  man's  usefulness  is  no  greater  than  his 
servant's,  in  the  trenches.  So  they  realize  this 
fact  and  act  as  though  it  were  true.  The  only 
place  in  all  the  world  today  where  we  have  a  real 
Brotherhood  of  Man  is  in  the  Allies'  trenches  on 
the  Western  front.  Men  display  heroism  there; 
but  they  don't  know  it.  Men  are  brave  out  there ; 
but  they  don't  think  of  it.  It  never  enters  a  man's 
head  that  he  has  been  a  hero,  it's  all  duty,  all  just 
natural;  they  couldn't  do  otherwise.  As  the 
wounded  Frenchman  said  about  the  worse 
wounded  Paul,  *'  I  couldn't  let  that  poor  wounded 
fellow  bleed  to  death."  There  was  duty.  It  had 
to  be  done.  "  So  I  took  my  socks  and  pulled  them 
on  his  feet.    What  else  could  I  do  ?  " 


(122  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

After  all,  heroism  and  heroes  are  not  always 
shouted  from  the  housetops  and  oftener  they 
pass  by  unmentloned.     But  Someone  knows. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE  TREACHEROUS  "GERMAN  SOUVENIR" 

THE  word  "  souvenir  "  means  a  remembrance. 
The  Huns  have  certainly  left  a  number  of 
things  which  will  be  remembrances  of  them  for  a 
long  time  to  come.     At  one  of  the  battles  near 

S: :   after  a    successful  charge   In   which    the 

French  had  succeeded  in  capturing  the  first  and 
second  line  German  trenches,  the  boys  found  some 
of  these  souvenirs.  One  of  them,  a  lad  of  twenty- 
two,  picked  up  a  fountain  pen  which  had  appar- 
ently been  dropped  by  some  soldier  In  the  hasty 
retreat.  The  young  poilu  started  to  examine  the 
pen  and  In  doing  so  unscrewed  the  cap  from  It. 
Just  as  he  had  it  about  off,  an  awful  explosion 
occurred  and  the  fellow's  face  was  blown  half  off, 
and  his  right  hand  was  torn  to  pieces.  We  car- 
ried him  to  the  hospital  where  he  was  treated  by 
the  surgeons  but  he  hardly  came  to  consciousness 
and  the  next  day  died  In  horrible  agony. 

Two  days  later  another  Frenchman  discovered 
a  watch  hanging  on  a  nail.    It  was  a  cheap  thing 

123 


124  ''^^^^  ^^om  Heir 

without  any  intrinsic  value,  but  when  he  saw  it  he 
thought  it  would  be  a  nice  little  relic  of  the  war 
and  reached  up  to  take  it  down.  It  went  off  with 
a  boom  and  as  a  result  he  has  no  eyes.  That  will 
be  his  remembrance  of  the  savage  Huns  to  his 
dying  day.  He  had  been  through  many  months  of 
war  and  seen  much  severe  fighting,  but  the  only 
thing  he  will  remember  about  the  enemy  is  their 
treachery.  Sometimes  in  war  even  the  vanquished 
will  praise  the  gallantry  and  the  bravery  of  the 
enemy  and  will  acknowledge  that  the  fight  was  a 
fair  one,  but  all  the  way  through  the  present  conflict 
the  evidence  against  the  Germans  has  been  more 
damning  and  conclusive  than  has  been  brought  to 
light  against  the  most  savage  peoples  that  ever 
lived.  Primitive  Indians  have  done  some  fear- 
fully horrible  deeds  in  days  gone  by,  but  the  In- 
dian never  had  a  fraction  of  the  ingenious  power 
for  deviltry  that  the  followers  of  Attila  possess. 
A  chair  was  fonnd  in  one  of  the  dugouts  and  when 
a  soldier  sat  in  it  he  was  blown  to  atoms.  There 
was  not  enough  left  of  his  body  to  be  recognizable 
and  the  pieces  were  gathered  together  and  buried 
in  a  nameless  grave. 

One  British  Tommy  started  to  move  a  shovel 
which  was  found  to  be  connected  with  wires  lead- 


The  Nigger's  Nose  129 

lips,  a  typical  negro,  only  he  spoke  French  instead 
of  English.  This  French  negro  had  had  his  nose 
shot  entirely  off.  I  had  previously  helped  carry 
him  into  the  hospital  and  he  was  indeed  a  dreadful 
sight  to  behold.  A  piece  of  shrapnel  had  got  him 
and  he  came  very  nearly  *'  going  West." 

But  the  doctors  took  him  and  labored  with  him 
day  after  day,  and  week  after  week.  They  took  a 
piece  of  bone  out  of  his  side  and  some  skin  from 
another  place  and  by  working,  and  grafting,  and 
rubbing,  they  finally  brought  out  a  new  nose  on 
the  fellow,  and  he  used  to  boast  in  front  of  his 
black  pals  that  when  they  got  back  to  Africa  he 
would  have  the  edge  on  all  of  them  with  those 
swarthy  girls  because  his  comrade's  noses  were 
big  and  flat  and  he  now  had  a  better  looking  one 
in  place  of  his  old  flat  one. 

Many  a  little  incident  of  a  similar  nature  hap- 
pens, both  in  the  hospitals  and  on  the  field,  and 
the  men  even  though  badly  "  cut  up  "  are  not  all 
the  time  groaning;  and  the  nurses  even  though 
very  sweet  and  gentle  are  not  constantly  weeping. 
They'd  soon  be  shipped  back  home  If  they  were. 
They  go  about  their  work  and  do  it,  just  as  a  doc- 
tor does  at  home. 

A  good  many  cases  of  mutilation  were  found 


130  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

which  were  just  as  bad  as  that  of  the  negro,  and 
which  in  the  beginning  seemed  just  as  hopeless. 
We  carried  in  one  British  Tommy  who  had  his 
entire  lower  jaw  blown  off.  He  presented  a  fear- 
ful spectacle.  He  was  put  to  bed  and  very  care- 
fully prepared  and  treated  to  get  his  body  into 
proper  shape  for  the  operation.  This  required 
some  days.  Then  those  confident  surgeons  started 
in  on  him.  Day  by  day  they  built  a  jaw  for  him, 
taking  a  piece  from  here  and  another  from  there 
and  by  skillfully  massaging  and  rubbing  they  by 
and  by,  got  him  fixed  up,  and  then  the  most  skilled 
dentists  in  the  world  took  him  in  hand  and  put  in 
teeth  for  him  so  that  today  you  cannot  discern 
that  he  was  ever  badly  mutilated.  All  you  can  see 
IS  a  little  mark  from  the  left  corner  of  his  mouth 
and  a  very  small  scar  from  the  right  corner.  He 
lisps  just  a  little  also,  as  his  tongue  was  partly 
shot  away. 

In  cases  where  the  limbs  are  fractured,  or  where 
certain  positions  must  be  maintained  while  the 
patient  is  lying  In  bed,  a  clever  device  has  been 
arranged. 

A  frame  which  holds  up  the  several  parts  of 
the  body  Is  attached  to  the  bed,  or  is  a  part  of 
the  bed,  and  In  this  frame  are  many  pulleys  with 


The  Nigger^s  Nose  13 II 

ropes  and  weights  attached.  When  the  wounded 
soldier  who  is  all  *'  broken  up  "  is  laid  in  this  bed, 
his  arm  is  laid  in  a  form,  and  the  form  is  lifted 
to  the  proper  position  and  held  there  by  the  weight 
over  the  pulley.  Some  positions  are  necessary  for 
rapid  healing;  some  are  necessary  for  comfort  or 
for  avoiding  intense  pain.  By  this  arrangement, 
invented  by  Dr.  Alexis  Carrel,  any  portion  of  the 
body  can  be  lifted  to  any  height  or  angle  and  kept 
there  as  long  as  necessary.  It  is  a  very  ingenious 
apparatus,  at  the  same  time  simple  and  of  inesti- 
mable value. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

GETTING  BY  THE  CONSULS 

FROM  the  very  beginning  I  had  had  an  over- 
whelming desire  to  go  to  Belgium.  Some- 
how that  country  has  gripped  the  imagination  of 
the  world  and  mine  as  well.  Neither  did  I  think 
of  any  of  the  drawbacks,  but  simply  said,  "I'm 
going  to  Belgium  for  relief  work.'*  I  had  not 
been  successful  in  being  assigned  to  any  unit 
before  I  left  the  States,  so  I  started  for  France 
en  route  for  Belgium  on  my  own  initiative.  Mr. 
Bryan  gave  me  a  passport,  but  when  I  arrived  in 
France  Ambassador  Sharp  urged  me  to  remain 
and  serve  there,  as  he  thought  it  would  be  ex- 
tremely difficult  to  get  Into  Belgium  when  men 
were  needed  in  France,  and  while  I  did  as  he  ad- 
vised, I  never  gave  up  the  idea  of  going  to  Bel- 
gium. I  had  seen  enough  of  German  Kultur  to 
whet  my  appetite  and  change  my  peaceful  views, 
but  now  I  wanted  to  get  the  evidence  from  the 
Huns  themselves  in  the  country  which  they  were 
governing.     Consequently  it  was  this,  which  at 

132 


Getting  By  the  Consuls  133 

the  time  impelled  me  to  ask  for  a  leave  of  absence 
and  to  apply  for  a  pass  out  of  France.  I  wanted 
to  go  to  Belgium,  but  now  for  a  different  purpose 
than  formerly. 

I  got  a  ten  days*  leave,  but  the  only  possible 
way  of  going  was  by  way  of  England,  thence  to 
Holland,  and  from  there  over  the  Belgium  border. 
I  had  my  troubles.  Of  course  I  kept  pretty  mum 
as  to  where  I  intended  to  go.  I  went  to  the  Ameri- 
can Consul  and  got  my  passport  vise^  that  is, 
stamped  or  O.  K.'d.  I  then  had  to  go  to  the 
French  Consul  and  ask  him  to  vise  my  passport. 
Inasmuch  as  I  was  going  to  England,  which  was 
an  allied  country,  it  was  not  very  difficult  to  per- 
suade the  French  Consul  to  let  me  go.  I  then 
had  to  go  to  the  English  Consul  and  get  his  con- 
sent to  enter  England.  He  did  not  seem  very 
formidable  and  I  finally  got  past  him  also.  My 
reason  for  going  to  England  I  told  him,  was  "  en 
route  to  Holland."  You  have  to  have  a  reason 
for  doing  everything.  But  since  England  was  not 
my  destination,  but  only  "en  route,"  my  reason 
did  not  need  to  be  very  definite  and  was  accepted. 

When  I  got  to  Dieppe,  a  British  soldier  or 
young  officer  I  believe  he  was,  who  had  had  sev- 
eral "Bass'  Ales,"  took  me  under  his  wing  and 


134  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

undertook  to  see  me  through.  He  told  the  cus- 
toms man  that  I  was  one  of  their  boys  from  the 
front  and  all  right,  as  I  was  going  home  to 
Blighty.  Consequently  I  had  little  difficulty  there. 
I  was  still  wearing  my  ambulance  uniform,  which 
much  resembled  theirs,  although  I  had  a  civilian 
suit  in  my  grip.  I  wore  the  uniform  so  as  to  get 
the  benefit  of  the  special  rate  on  the  railroad, 
namely,  one-fourth  fare.  As  I  sat  down  to  have 
a  chat  with  this  Englishman  he  was  so  good  to  me 
that  I  got  quite  confidential.  We  had  been  talk- 
ing about  the  brutalities  of  the  Germans  In  Bel- 
gium. I  said,  **  I'm  on  my  way  to  Belgium  now, 
Fm  going  around  behind  the  German  lines  to  see 
the  Huns  as  they  are.''  "  You  don't  say  so  I"  said 
he.  *'  Yes,"  I  said,  "  I'm  going  over  to  Belgium  to 
see  with  my  own  eyes  the  picture  of  devastation." 
He  didn't  take  It  well.  He  got  a  little  excited  and 
said,  "  Well  you  better  not.  In  fact  I'll  see  to  It 
that  you  don't  go  over  to  the  German  lines.  I'll 
have  you  know  that  we're  not  funnin'  in  this  busi- 
ness." I  saw  that  I  had  got  In  bad.  I  always  did 
have  trouble  in  that  way.  I  couldn't  keep  my 
mouth  shut, and  whenever  I  opened  It  I  put  my 
foot  In  it.  I  began  to  back  up.  I  don't  remem- 
ber just  what  I  said,  but  I  suddenly  became  very 


A  HURRY  CALL.     "CLLAR  THE  TRACK. 


'JUMBO,"  THE  BIGGEST  AMBULANCE  ON  THE 

WESTERN  FRONT. 

The  author  is  the  second  man  on  the  left. 


Getting  By  the  Consuls  135 

conciliatory  and  gave  him  to  understand  that  I'd 
far  rather  take  his  judgment  on  the  matter,  and  if 
he  thought  I  had  better  not  go,  why,  of  course,  I 
wouldn't  do  it  I  think  he  almost  forgot  it  after  a 
bit,  but  to  make  sure  I  opened  up  my  grip  and  took 
out  half  a  pound  of  smoking  tobacco  which  I  had 
drawn  gratis  at  the  Ambulance,  contributed  by  his 
own  countrymen,  the  Overseas  Club,  and  with  all 
the  ceremonies,  presented  it  to  him. 

That  tobacco  (added  to  the  ale)  caused  him  to 
completely  forget  my  purpose,  and  as  the  boat 
whistled  off  from  the  dock,  he  waved  me  a  merry 
"Best  'o  Luck." 

But  I  thought  many  a  time  how  close  I  came 
to  being  balked,  by  my  tongue.  A  word  from  him 
to  headquarters  would  have  cooked  the  whole 
game. 

On  the  water  the  night  was  very  stormy.  I 
guess  all  nights  are  on  the  English  channel,  but 
this  one  was  particularly  so.  It  rained  all  the  way. 
It  was  a  four-hour  trip,  and  while  I  am  an  excel- 
lent sailor  and  had  never  been  sick  in  crossing  the 
ocean,  I  was  fearfully  sick  that  night.  The  next 
day  I  was  in  London. 

What  was  the  procedure  ?  I  was  told  by  some- 
body, that  wherever  I  was  going  I  would  surely 


136 ''Back  From  Hell" 

be  held  three  days  in  England.  I  went  to  the 
American  Consul.  I  wanted  my  passport  vise 
for  Holland.  My  reasons?  Well,  I  couldn't  say 
"en  route"  anymore  because  they  don't  approve 
of  people  going  through  Holland  to  the  enemy. 
Going  to  Holland,  what  for?  Why,  naturally,  to 
see  my  old  friend  and  professor.  Doctor  Henry 
Van  Dyke,  American  Minister  there.  Of  course 
the  doctor  didn't  know  I  was  coming,  and  wouldn't 
have  remembered  me  anyway.  But  nevertheless 
I  had  conceived  a  sudden  and  irresistible  desire  to 
visit  him. 

A  young  fellow  by  the  name  of  Ripley  Wilson, 
about  my  own  age,  was  vice-consul.  He  waited 
on  me,  but  he  did  not  seem  satisfied  with  my  expla- 
nations, or  my  reasons  for  wanting  to  go  to  Hol- 
land. He  talked  and  argued  and  hemmed  and 
hawed,  and  finally  said,  "What  is  your  real  object 
in  going  to  Holland,  Mr.  Benson?"  I  answered, 
"  I  have  told  you  that  I  am  going  over  to  visit  my 
old  professor.  Doctor  Van  Dyke."  Then  he  tried 
to  trap  me.  He  said,  "  Oh,  did  you  go  to  Har- 
vard?" I  said,  "No,  sir."  He  said,  "Then 
where  did  you  know  him?"  I  said,  "Dr.  Van 
Dyke  never  taught  in  Harvard.  I  knew  him  at 
Princeton,  naturally,  the  place  where  he  taught." 


Getting  By  the  Consuls  137 

This  kind  of  floored  him,  but  still  he  persisted. 
*'  But,  Mr.  Benson,  what  would  anybody  say  about 
such  a  reason  as  you  give,  *  going  to  Holland  to 
visit  a  friend  in  war  time  ? '  " 

I  saw  the  situation.  Ripley  Wilson  just  needed 
a  little  domineering,  and  for  the  first  time  in  my 
life  I  was  a  little  saucy  to  a  diplomatic  officer.  I 
said,  "  Mr.  Wilson,  I  have  told  you  what  I  am 
going  to  Holland  for,  and  furthermore  what 
would  anybody  say  about  you  asking  me  so  many 
petty  questions?  Wouldn^t  they  say  it  was  none 
of  your  business?"  It  worked. 

In  a  few  minutes  I  had  his  signature  and  stamp 
on  my  passport,  and  we  bade  each  other  a  good- 
natured  good-bye.  Then  I  had  to  go  to  the  Brit- 
ish foreign  office  to  get  their  permission  to  leave, 
and  that  was  not  so  easy.  The  young  fellow  who 
first  handled  the  case  asked  me  a  lot  of  similar 
questions  and  I  answered  them  in  the  same  way. 
Then  he  asked  me  if  I  was  going  to  try  to  go  to 
Belgium  when  I  got  to  Holland.  "  Why,  I  hadn't 
thought  of  it,"  I  replied.  All  the  time  with  a 
straight  face.  After  a  while  he  went  into  another 
room  and  presently  returned  and  asked  me  to 
come  back  at  four  o'clock,  as  I  had  better  have  a 
personal  talk  with  the  colonel. 


138  "Back  From  Heir 

I  went  up  to  Trafalgar  Square  and  saw  the  mili- 
tary demonstrations  and  then  went  up  the  Strand 
and  looked  about  a  bit,  and  at  four  o'clock  went 
back  to  Whitehall.  I  was  ushered  Into  the  pres- 
ence of  the  colonel.  He  was  in  all  his  glory. 
Trappings  of  every  kind  adorned  his  person, 
shoulder  straps  and  all.  But  surprising  as  it  was 
to  me,  he  was  not  at  all  officious  and  I  had  a  very 
pleasant  hour  with  him.  At  first  he  was  a  little 
curious.  He  wanted  to  know  my  reasons  for  going 
to  Holland  and  so  forth,  but  after  a  little  he  be- 
came very  cordial  and  said,  they  simply  wanted 
to  be  careful,  as  people  going  to  Holland  were  get- 
ting very  near  the  enemy  and  might  tell  something 
even  unwittingly  which  would  hurt  the  cause.  He 
then  said  he  would  get  me  a  special  permit  to  go 
that  night  on  a  certain  boat  on  the  Zelande  Line  at 
eight  o'clock.  He  called  Mr.  Haldane-Porter 
on  the  telephone  and  told  him  he  was  sending  me 
over,  and  also  gave  me  a  letter  to  him  requesting 
him  to  give  me  his  special  pass.  I  later  figured  out 
that  it  wasn't  any  special  honor  at  all  that  he  was 
favoring  me  with,  but  that  his  words  and  actions 
meant  I  was  to  go  at  the  hour  he  said  and  on  the 
boat  he  Indicated  and  have  every  movement  I 
made  thoroughly  known  to  Scotland  Yard. 


Getting  By  the  Consuls  139 

Nevertheless  I  felt  fortunate  and  glad.  Then 
I  had  to  go  to  the  Dutch  Consul  in  London  and 
get  his  permit  to  enter  his  country.  He  was  neu- 
tral and  didn't  give  a  rap  where  I  went,  so  I  didn't 
have  to  spend  much  time  on  him,  but  only  ninety 
cents.  My  khaki  uniform  I  checked  at  the  North 
London  Railway.  I  didn't  care  to  have  any  khaki 
about  me  when  I  went  to  Germany.  They  don't 
like  it  over  there.  I  stuck  the  check  in  a  safe 
hiding  place  in  the  back  of  a  book  of  cigarette 
papers  which  a  pollu  had  given  me  as  a  souvenir. 
Then  I  caught  my  boat  and  sailed  for  Holland. 
On  the  boat  I  noticed  a  sign  saying  that  no  letters 
were  to  be  carried  across,  on  pain  of  summary 
justice.  It  scared  me,  as  I  had  several  letters  that 
I  did  not  want  to  part  with.  Two  were  addressed 
to  Brand  Whitlock,  the  American  Minister  in 
Brussels,  and  one  to  a  woman  who  is  the  mother 
of  one  of  my  ecclesiastical  flock  In  America. 
Nevertheless,  I  kept  them. 

When  I  got  to  Holland  I  went  straight  to  The 
Hague.  The  first  thing  I  did  was  to  have  two 
photographs  taken,  one  with  my  arm  band  on  my 
sleeve,  and  the  other  without  it.  Doctor  Van 
Dyke  I  found  in  his  office,  and  his  son  also,  who 
remembered  me  in  college.    However,  the  doctor 


I40  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

said  that  he  had  serious  doubts  whether  I  could 
get  Into  Belgium.  He  recently  had  received  word 
from  Mr.  Whitlock  to  be  very  careful  about  let- 
ting people  come  over  from  Holland,  as  there  was 
not  much  for  them  to  do  and  they  often  made  a  lot 
of  trouble. 

The  Doctor  suggested  that  I  write  Mr.  Whit- 
lock and  ask  him  If  he  had  something  for  me  to  do 
in  the  relief  work.  Well,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  I 
did  not  want  to  do  this.  There  were  two  reasons. 
One  was  that  I  knew  It  would  take  a  week  to  get  a 
reply,  and  I  did  not  want  to  wait.  The  other  was 
I  was  afraid  he  might  say  no,  thus  effectually  block- 
ing my  plans  and  hopes.  I  wanted  to  get  to  Bel- 
gium above  all  things.  At  last.  Dr.  Van  Dyke  said 
he  did  not  feel  he  should  be  the  one  to  vise  my  pass- 
port, but  I  had  better  go  down  and  have  a  talk 
with  Colonel  LIstoe  at  Rotterdam.  He  was  the 
real  official  who  should  do  it,  being  the  closest  to 
the  border,  but  the  Doctor  was  doubtful  If  he 
would  do  it.  I  gathered  from  the  conversation 
that  he  and  the  Colonel  were  very  Intimate  friends. 
I  then  went  to  a  hotel,  VAmericatn,  on  the 
Wagonstraat  and  went  to  bed  to  sleep  over  it. 
The  next  morning  a  happy  thought  struck  me.  I 
said  to  myself,  "  I'll  try  some  diplomacy  on  these 


Getting  By  the  Consuls  1411 

diplomats."  Again  I  went  over  to  Dr.  Van  Dyke's 
office,  and  said,  "  Doctor,  I  haven't  much  identifi- 
cation, and  I  wonder  if  you  would  be  willing  to 
give  me  a  note  saying  that  I  am  the  person  I  pur- 
port to  be,  and  an  American  citizen.  He  said, 
"  Why  certainly,"  and  wrote  me  such  a  note  on  the 
official  stationery.  I  put  the  note  Into  my  pocket, 
gleefully.  I  forgot  to  tell  him  that  I  had  come 
all  the  way  from  France  and  England  to  have  a 
visit  with  him,  but  nevertheless  I  had  had  It.  I 
now  thanked  him  and  bade  him  good-bye.  I 
hastened  by  electric  to  Rotterdam,  and  hunted  up 
the  American  Consulate.  I  knocked  on  the  floor 
and  asked,  *'Is  Colonel  Listoe  In?"  "Yes,  the 
name,  please?"  "Mr.  Benson."  A  man  rose  and 
stepped  cordially  forward  to  greet  me.  I  said, 
"  Colonel  Listoe,  I  believe,  I  just  came  down  from 
my  old  friend.  Doctor  Van  Dyke ;  I  was  under  him 
at  college,  and  his  son  was  In  my  class.  I  have 
a  letter  from  him  here  and  I  am  going  over  to 
Belgium." 

"  Oh,  oh.  Dr.  Van  Dyke ;  well,  well,  to  be  sure ! " 
He  took  my  passport  and  had  the  vice-consul  vise 
it  before  ever  he  looked  at  the  note.  Then  while 
I  was  getting  out  the  letter  I  explained  that  It 
was  just  a  formal  note  of  Identification;    but  my 


142  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

passport  was  already  fixed  and  everything  was 
fine. 

I  chatted  with  him  for  an  hour,  smoked  one  of 
his  fine  black  cigars  and,  of  course,  found  him  a 
delightful  man.  Then  I  said,  "  Colonel,  is  there 
anything  else  I  need  to  do  before  I  can  go  to  Bel- 
gium?" "Oh,  by  George  I"  he  said,  slapping 
himself  upon  the  knee,  "  I  almost  forgot  the  most 
important  part.  Sure,  you  must  go  over  to  the 
German  Consuls  and  get  their  consent,  and  go  be- 
fore four  o'clock."  Ah!  there  was  the  rub.  I 
knew  it.  But  I  went.  And  I  had  some  whale  of 
a  time  getting  their  consent,  too.  When  I  went 
into  the  room  there  were  six  of  them  sitting  behind 
the  table.  I  went  up  to  the  first  one  and  told  him 
I  wanted  to  go  to  Belgium.  I  was  now  in  my  civil- 
ian clothes  and  I  had  put  the  set  of  photographs 
with  the  Red  Cross  arm  band  on,  in  my  left 
pocket  and  the  set  without  the  arm  band  in  my 
right  pocket.  The  man  asked  me,  "  What  do  you 
want  to  go  to  Belgium  for?"  I  replied:  "Re- 
lief work."  "What  kind?"  "Red  Cross."  "Are 
you  a  Red  Cross  man?"  "Yes,  sir."  "  Have 
you  a  commission?"  "N-n-no."  "How  do  you 
prove  you  are  a  Red  Cross  man?"  I  began  fum- 
bling for  my  photographs.     For  the  life  of  me  I 


Getting  By  the  Consuls  143 

couldn't  tell  which  kind  were  in  which  pocket.  I 
reached  and  shuffled,  and  turned  red,  and  pulled 
out  —  the  wrong  one  I  Well,  it  didn't  make  much 
difference.  I  said,  "  That's  just  a  civilian  picture  for 
putting  on  my  passports,  but  here  is  my  Red  Cross 
picture."  Then  I  pulled  the  other  on  him.  He 
seemed  satisfied.  That  Red  Cross  on  the  sleeve 
seemed  to  do  the  business.  He  said  "You  will 
offer  yourself  to  the  Red  Cross  in  Belgium  ?  "  I 
said,  "Yes,  sir."  When  he  was  about  finished, 
another  consul  passing  by  became  curious.  He 
said,  "What  Is  it  this  man  wants?"  And  about 
the  time  I  had  satisfied  him,  still  another  came. 
And  if  you  don't  think  it  is  some  job  to  convince 
six  Germans  to  be  of  the  same  mind  at  the  same 
moment,  try  it  sometime.  The  man  finally  said,  "  I 
shall  write  it  on  your  passport  that  you  will  offer 
yourself  to  the  Red  Cross  in  Belgium?"  I 
knew  that  he  meant  business,  and  if  It  was  written 
on  there  it  meant  for  me  to  do  it,  but  I  was  ready 
to  do  anything.  I  wanted  to  get  into  Belgium.  I 
had  been  five  days  making  the  trip  up  to  the  doors 
of  Belgium,  a  trip  that  would  take  ten  hours 
ordinarily,  and  I  did  not  want  to  be  balked.  I 
said,  "Yes,  sir,  you  may  write  it  on  my  passport." 
He  did  it,  too.     He  then  said,  "Eight  marks!" 


144  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

and  I  fished  out  two  dollars.  That  passport  is  one 
of  my  valued  souvenirs  today.  I  was  now  getting 
poor,  as  every  consul  had  been  bleeding  me  both 
to  leave  and  to  enter  his  countjry.  The  Americans 
were  the  only  ones  whose  stamp  was  free.  My 
pass  was  given  me  to  Brussels  and  the  next  morn- 
ing I  embarked.  When  we  crossed  the  border 
a  mile  or  two  in,  the  train  stopped  at  Esschen. 
Most  of  the  cars  were  locked  and  the  passengers, 
a  few  at  a  time,  were  taken  out  and  searched.  I 
was  among  them,  and  it  was  not  a  pleasant  sensa- 
tion. But  I  was  in  Belgium,  had  come  from  the 
enemy  and  had  literally  bluffed  my  way  through. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

A    CLOSE    SHAVE 

ON  MY  way  to  Brussels  I  had  to  pass  through 
Antwerp.  My  pass  allowed  me  to  go  to 
Brussels  —  and  nowhere  else.  But  as  the  train 
stopped  at  six  o'clock  in  the  evening  at  Antwerp, 
and  I  learned  that  it  would  be  there  about  three 
hours,  I  got  off  and  asked  the  Germans  who 
guarded  the  gate  if  I  might  stay  in  Antwerp  over 
night.  They  told  me  that  I  had  plenty  of  time 
and  I  might  go  down  to  the  Kommandantur  of 
the  city  and  make  my  request.    I  did  so. 

"  Herr  Kommandantur'*  was  a  big,  bull-necked, 
red-faced  fellow  who  responded  to  my  request 
with  the  grunted  word,  JVarum?  When  I  ex- 
plained why  I  wanted  to  stay  he  asked  me  sev- 
eral qi^stions  about  myself  and  wrote  down  the 
charges  ^Igainst  me,  and  finally  said  If  I  would 
give  him  a  quarter  I  could  stay  overnight — no, 
that  was  not  exactly  the  way  he  said  it,  either.  He 
did  not  speak  English  anyway,  but  after  writing 
down  all  these  answers,  he  said  in  a  harsh,  guttural 

145 


146  ''Back  From  Heir 

tone,  Eine  Mark!  I  took  the  hint,  and  it  didn't 
take  long  for  me  to  produce  the  quarter.  He 
then  handed  me  the  paper,  which  said  that  I  was 
permitted  to  leave  Antwerp  and  go  to  Brussels 
the  following  day.  That  was  all  I  wanted.  I 
wanted  to  see  Antwerp — but  I  also  wanted  to  go 
on,  when  I  got  ready.  I  had  to  have  that  paper 
then,  permitting  me  to  go  on  the  morrow,  or  else 
I'd  "  find  out  the  meaning  of  German  authority  I  " 
The  next  morning  I  took  a  walk  to  have  a  look 
about.  I  had  already,  on  the  previous  day,  as  I 
came  into  Antwerp,  witnessed  many  towns  lying 
in  ruins,  the  remains  of  which  I  could  see  from  the 
car  window.  But  when  I  went  out  Into  the  town 
of  Antwerp,  I  learned  just  what  the  German  could 
do  In  the  way  of  vandalism  and  ruthlessness.  I 
saw  the  forts  which  they  had  bombarded  for  three 
days,  on  the  third  day  of  which  they  had  tossed 
over  those  forty-two  centimeter  shells  at  the  rate 
of  one  every  five  seconds  all  day  and  all  night. 
The  destruction  was  terrific.  I  came  back  to  the 
center  of  the  city  and  went  Into  a  little  cafe  to 
get  some  lunch.  The  woman  who  kept  the  place 
showed  me  two  big  pieces  of  Iron  and  steel,  chunks 
which  must  have  weighed  ten  to  fifteen  pounds 
apiece,  which  she  had  found  in  her  bed  after  the 


A  Close  Shave  147 


bombardment  ceased,  and  she  tpld  me  with  tears 
in  her  eyes  that  later,  after  the  capture  of  the 
town,  the  German  officers  outraged  her  daughter. 

Fortunately,  the  woman  had  not  been  sleeping 
at  home  at  the  time,  but  had  been  over  with  her 
sister,  otherwise  she  would  not  have  shown  any- 
body those  iron  relics.  It  was  a  close  shave.  This 
woman  was  very  kind  to  me,  and  the  only  reason 
I  do  not  mention  her  name,  and  many  other 
names  of  Belgian  people,  who  were  courteous  and 
helpful  to  me,  is  that  some  pro-German  would 
very  likely  report  them  and  have  them  harassed  by 
the  military  governors  there. 

These  governors  are  most  thorough  in  their 
policy  of  persecution  and  inquisition,  the  same  as 
in  their  scientific  research,  and  I  often  hold  my- 
self back  from  telling  names  of  Belgian  people 
who  were  hospitable  to  me,  for  their  own  safety. 
When  the  war  is  over  I  shall  write  them  all  and 
try  to  demonstrate  my  deep  appreciation.  They 
bore  up  so  nobly  when  their  kinfolk  were  killed, 
their  homes  destroyed,  and  their  country  de- 
vastated. As  soon  as  I  got  to  Brussels  I  called  on 
the  American  minister. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

MEETING   BRAND   WHITLOCK 

A  DIPLOMATIC  officer  is  a  peculiar  indi- 
vidual. I  wish  I  were  one  —  sometimes.  I 
wouldn't  have  liked  to  be  Brand  Whitlock,  how- 
ever, when  this  war  broke  out.  He  had  been  liv- 
ing a  quiet,  peaceful  existence  in  that  wonderful 
city  of  Brussels,  no  doubt  having  a  good  time  in 
general,  when  suddenly  and  without  warning  the 
country  was  invaded  by  hordes  of  hostile  Ger- 
mans, who  bombarded  the  cities,  burned  the  ham- 
lets, and  slaughtered  the  people  in  large  numbers, 
driving  others  by  thousands  from  their  homes  and 
out  of  their  country.  Then  the  conqueror  began 
oppressing  the  captive  people,  and  Brand  Whit- 
lock had  to  act  as  intermediary.  Besides  this,  he 
had  to  defend  himself  from  those  other  hordes 
from  the  outside;  I  mean  the  Americans  who 
bombarded  him  with  offers  to  come  over  and  help 
care  for  the  poor,  starving  Belgians.  I  was  one 
of  them.  Their  motives  were  excellent,  but  their 
judgment  was  questionable,  and  it  never  seemed 

148 


Meeting  Brand  PF  hit  lock  149 

to  enter  their  heads  that  if  thousands  of  them  went 
over  to  care  for  the  starving  Belgians,  it  would 
take  a  large  amount  of  food  to  keep  them,  before 
ever  the  Belgians  got  any.  Furthermore,  the 
Germans  did  not  like  Americans  in  the  country, 
seeing  what  they  had  done  to  Belgium.  It  wasn't 
pleasant  to  have  them  around.  They  arrested 
them  and  harassed  them  and  caused  a  lot  of 
trouble.  No  wonder  Mr.  Whitlock  wrote  to  Dr. 
Van  Dyke  asking  him  to  be  very  careful  about 
sending  Americans  over.  But  I  am  a  persistent 
person. 

When  I  got  to  Brussels  I  went  to  call  on  this 
same  minister.  I  did  possess  two  personal  let- 
ters addressed  to  him  from  American  Congress- 
men who  were  good  friends  of  Mr.  Whitlock. 
And  I  felt  it  would  be  a  shame  not  to  deliver  them. 

But  the  young  lady  who  received  the  visitors 
asked  me  what  I  wanted  to  see  him  about.  I 
replied,  "On  business."  She  said,  "He  is  very 
busy."  I  asked,  "  Is  he  too  busy  to  attend  to  busi- 
ness?" "Well,"  she  answered,  "I  don't  believe 
he  could  see  you." 

I  responded,  "Say,  my  young  lady,  I  am  an 
American  citizen,  a  stranger  in  a  strange  land.  I 
am   among  a   people   who   are   not  particularly 


I50  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

friendly,  as  I  have  already  learned.  They  are 
the  bosses  over  here.  I  am  expecting  to  be  about 
in  this  country  somewhat,  and  I  feel  I  have  a 
right  to  be  known  by  the  American  Minister.  If 
anything  happens  to  me,  I  ^ant  him  to  be  able  to 
Identify  me.  Our  diplomatic  officers  are  sent 
here  by  the  United  States,  paid  by  the  people,  to 
look  after  our  interests,  and  our  traveling  citizens, 
and  then  when  we  come  here  the  secretary  says  he 
cannot  see  us.    Why  is  it  ?  " 

This  evidently  made  some  impression,  for  she 
said  finally,  "Well,  If  you  will  come  back  In  the 
afternoon,  I  suppose  you  can  see  him." 

I  went  away  then,  saying,  "  I  certainly  expect  to 
see  him."  In  the  afternoon  I  did.  I  found  Mr. 
Whitlock  the  most  genial  man  In  the  world.  He 
had  plenty  of  time  to  be  civil  and  obliging  and  to 
chat  a  while,  although  I  did  not  abuse  the  privi- 
lege. I  told  him  I  wanted  him  to  know  me,  and  I 
delivered  the  letters.  As  I  left  he  stamped  my 
passport  and  said,  "  Come  in  again  when  you  can, 
Mr.  Benson."  I  had  occasion  to  do  so — before 
long. 


o 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

MY  MAPS  OF  BELCrUM 

N  LEAVING  Mr.  Whitlock  I  went  down 
town  and  engaged  a  room  at  a  little  private 
hotel  for  the  duration  of  my  stay  in  Brussels.  One 
day  shortly  afterwards,  while  I  was  sitting  in  a 
cafe  of  the  little  hotel,  a  neighbor  of  the  proprietor 
came  in  and  I  was  introduced  to  him.  He  was 
a  very  likable  fellow,  and  we  had  a  half  hour's 
pleasant  chat,  at  least  it  was  pleasant  for  me.  I 
am  not  so  sure  it  was  as  pleasant  for  him,  for  I 
was  certainly  an  artist  at  butchering  up  the  King's 
French. 

As  he  arose  to  go  out  he  bid  me  au  revoir 
and  stopped  for  a  moment  to  speak  confidentially 
to  the  madame  who  ran  the  place.  After  he  had 
departed  she  told  me  that  the  man  was  a  regular 
customer  of  theirs  who  lived  down  the  street,  and 
that  he  was  a  printer  by  trade.  His  particular  line 
of  printing  was  that  of  map  making,  and  he  had 
told  the  landlady  that  he  would  like  to  make  me 
a  present  of  some  nice  maps  of  Belgium  if  I 

151 


152  ''Back  From  Heir 

would  accept  them.  He  wanted  to  show  his  ap- 
preciation for  the  assistance  of  America.  I  said, 
*'  That  would  be  very  fine  and  I  would  certainly 
be  glad  to  have  them,  both  for  their  instructive 
value  as  well  as  a  memento  of  the  giver." 

Accordingly,  the  next  day  the  man  came  over 
with  his  maps  in  his  hand  and  gave  them  to  me. 
They  were  not  large  and  could  be  conveniently 
folded  and  put  into  the  pocket,  but  they  were  un- 
usually complete  and  really  very  excellent  guides 
to  the  country.  I  took  them  and  thanked  him, 
looking  them  over  admiringly  and  putting  them 
into  my  inside  pocket. 

Thereafter  when  I  talked  with  the  Belgian  peo- 
ple about  the  geography  of  the  country,  I  fre- 
quently consulted  my  map  in  order  to  fasten  in 
mind  the  location  of  the  different  towns.  My  own 
study  of  geography  in  my  earlier  days  had  been 
sadly  neglected  or  forgotten,  so  I  found  these 
very  useful  gifts.  It  was  quite  natural  that  peo- 
ple, in  talking  with  me  about  the  brutality  of  the 
Germans,  should  mention  towns  where  the  most 
glaring  atrocities  had  been  perpetrated.  I  had 
also  read  the  Bryce  report  and  the  names  of  cer- 
tain towns  stood  out  distinctly  in  my  memory. 
These  places  I  marked  with  a  cross  on  the  map, 


My  Maps  of  Belgium  '153 

so  as  to  be  sure  to  visit  them,  and  later,  when  I 
visited  other  destroyed  villages  or  cities,  I  marked 
them  also,  so  that  later  in  life  I  might  glance  over 
the  maps  and  easily  recall  the  experiences  in  each 
of  the  places.  I  thought  I  had  a  very  nice  memento 
which  would  always  call  up  vivid  recollections. 
Certain  places  had  been  already  specially  marked 
in  the  making  of  the  map  by  having  circles  of 
stars  around  the  town  which  I  did  not  exactly  un- 
derstand, but  supposing  they  were  important 
cities  or  capitals  of  provinces,  I  was  particular  to 
put  a  cross  there  as  a  place  which  I  ought  to  visit, 
which  I  did  In  most  cases.  In  fact,  before  I  had 
completed  my  tour  of  the  country  I  had  the  maps 
pretty  well  crossed  up,  especially  In  the  more  Im- 
portant centers  throughout  the  ruined  districts. 

One  striking  thing  In  scanning  the  maps  was 
that  I  had  not  marked  a  single  place  which  was 
not  In  the  devastated  area,  plainly  Indicating  that 
I  had  made  a  careful  point  of  traveling  only 
through  the  parts  which  the  Germans  had  de- 
stroyed and  going  only  to  the  worst  desolated 
places  at  that.  In  other  words,  by  a  glance  at  my 
map  you  could  follow  my  itinerary  practically  as 
easily  as  you  can  follow  a  rabbit  In  the  snow  by 
his  tracks.  >         ' 


154  ''Back  From  Heir' 

Many  a  time  I  contemplated  looking  back  with 
pleasure  and  explaining  to  my  American  friends 
in  years  to  come  and  to  my  grandchildren,  when 
my  hair  should  be  gray,  how  I  had  bluffed  my 
way  through  the  German  lines  and  observed  the 
country  and  the  German  rule  while  he  was  still  in 
possession.  It  would  be  a  thing  of  which  few 
men  could  boast,  since  it  was  against  the  military 
policy  of  every  country  to  allow  anybody  to  come 
from  the  enemy  and  go  through  their  land  and 
then  go  back  to  the  enemy  again.  That  was 
unheard  of.  Yet  inwardly  it  was  my  intention, 
and,  in  fact,  I  had  no  other  idea  than  that  I 
should  accomplish  it  successfully.  Consequently 
I  wrote  down  nothing.  I  mean  I  kept  no  diary  on 
paper  and  I  wrote  no  letters.  I  had  many  friends 
in  France  who  would  have  liked  to  have  a  word 
from  me,  and  also  my  folks  in  America  expected 
me  to  write  them  letters  for  news  and  for  sou- 
venirs, but  I  was  afraid  to  attempt  to  send  any 
word  to  them,  even  indirectly  through  Holland, 
as  I  feared  the  Germans  would  open  all  mail,  and 
finding  me  in  touch  with  France,  would  decide  that 
I  intended  returning  there  and  then  would  see  to 
it  that  I  did  not.  Everything  that  I  saw  and  heard 
in  Belgium,  all  the  information  I  received,  was 


My  Maps  of  Belgium  155 

in  my  head  and  not  on  paper,  as  I  felt  that  would 
save  me  much  troubk;  so  I  merely  marked  the 
maps  with  little  crosses. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE  *'  CAT  AND  MOUSE  "  GAME 

AT  LENGTH  I  went  to  the  German  Pass  of- 
fice in  Brussels.  It  was  called  the  *'  Pass- 
ZentraUy  up  in  the  Rue  Royale,  only  a  block  from 
,the  King's  palace.  I  there  applied  for  a  pass  to 
Liege.  I  was  told  by  the  sentry  to  come  back  in 
the  afternoon,  at  three  o'clock.  The  office  is  only 
open  from  nine  till  twelve  and  from  three  to  six. 
I  went  back  at  three.  A  young  "  smart  aleck"  of 
the  name  of  Klenkum  took  my  American  passport 
from  me  and  told  me  to  come  back  the  next  morn- 
ing between  ten  and  eleven,  giving  me,  as  he  spoke, 
a  slip  of  paper  which  read,  Zwischen  zehn  und 
elf,  I  went  back  next  day  and  handed  Klenkum 
the  slip  of  paper,  which  he  saucily  laid  on  the 
other  side  of  the  desk  and  wrote  another,  telling 
me  to  come  back  in  two  days,  or  Sunday  between 
ten  and  eleven.  I  was  angry.  He  saw  it,  and  said, 
"Prisoner,  eh?"  I  did  not  answer.  And  so  as 
I  opened  the  door  he  rubbed  it  in,  saying,  Sehr 
gut,  ehf    With  a  sickly  smile  on  my  face,  I  re- 

156 


The  " Cat  and  Mouse'*  Game         Ig7 

plied,  "Yes,  very  good,"  and  went  out.  But  I 
was  simply  boiling.  I  went  to  the  office  of  Von 
Bissing  and  had  quite  a  talk  with  him,  but  nothing 
came  of  it.  I  then  went  up  to  Mr.  Whitlock  and 
told  him  what  they  were  doing  with  me.  I  said 
the  Germans  were  keeping  my  American  pass- 
port, which  was  a  breach  of  international  law,  and 
playing  a  kind  of  "cat  and  mouse"  game  with 
me.  Immediately  he  wrote  a  letter  curtly  de- 
manding my  passport  and  ordering  them  to  give 
me  a  pass  where  I  wanted  to  go.  I  took  this  let- 
ter up  and  delivered  it  at  headquarters.  Well, 
they  ignored  the  letter  entirely,  and  the  pass  was 
given  me  at  the  last  moment  Klenkum  had  indi- 
cated, namely,  eleven  o'clock  on  Sunday.  But 
Klenkum  was  not  the  particular  man  who  handed 
It  to  me.  He  sent  me  into  another  room  to  a 
higher  officer.  My  pass  was  handed  me  by  an  im- 
portant personage. 

I  was  then  given  some  instructions  by  no  less  a 
person  than  Von  Bissing  himself.  But  I  had  kept 
the  road  hot  in  front  of  the  King's  palace,  between 
Mr.  Whitlock's  office,  corner  Rue  de  Treves  and 
Rue  Belliard,  and  the  German  Pass-Zentrah 
in  the  Rue  Royale.  This  heckling,  harassing 
policy  of  duplicity  was  the  one  which  the  Ger- 


ijS ''Back  From  Heir' 

man  Government  constantly  employed,  and  when 
one  reflects  a  moment  and  makes  comparisons, 
he  finds  that  it  is  the  same  policy  which  they  have 
used  in  their  diplomatic  notes  and  business  with 
the  United  States  ever  since  the  war  began.  It  is 
almost  impossible  to  pin  them  down  to  anything, 
and  have  any  guarantee  that  they  will  keep  their 
word. 

As  Viellaur,  the  officer  in  charge,  finally 
handed  me  the  passports,  I  jokingly  said  to  him, 
"  There's  a  good  deal  of  red  tape  about  getting  a 
pass  from  the  German  Government,  isn't  there  ?  " 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  of  course  we  think  you  peo- 
ple are  friendly  to  us,  otherwise  you  wouldn't  be 
able  to  get  a  pass  at  all.  We  conclude,"  he  con- 
tinued, *'that  you  are  friends,  from  what  we  see 
in  the  newspapers."  I  replied,  "Well,  that's 
about  all  a  person  has  to  go  by,  just  what  he  sees 
in  the  newspapers."  I  left  him  to  draw  his  own 
conclusions,  while  I  caught  the  train. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

SHADOWED  AT  LIEGE 

AT  LIEGE  I  felt  the  German  espionage  sys- 
tem. This  city  became  world  famous  in  a 
week's  time  when  the  Hun  was  pounding  at  the 
gates.  It  was  the  first  the  world  knew  of  the  war. 
The  place  was  fearfully  "  strafed."  It  was  Sunday 
afternoon  when  I  arrived.  Before  I  could  get  off 
the  train,  or  rather  out  of  the  depot,  I  had  to  let 
the  German  soldiers  search  me,  and  they  went 
through  my  clothes  with  a  marvelous  thorough- 
ness. When  I  went  to  a  hotel  and  was  eating  my 
supper  I  found  there  two  Germans  in  the  dining 
room,  one  of  whom  was  a  soldier  and  one  a  rail- 
road conductor,  talking  together.  I  will  not  men- 
tion the  name  of  the  conductor  because  if  this  was 
reported  of  him  it  might  mean  his  execution. 
After  a  few  minutes  the  soldier  went  away. 

I  went  on  with  my  supper  but  before  I  h'ad  fin- 
ished a  violent  pounding  sounded  on  the  door. 
The  proprietor,  a  Belgian,  started  to  answer  it, 
while  his  wife  peeped  out  and  saw  that  two  burly 

159 


i6o ''Back  From  Hell'' 

German  officers  were  there.  She  became  excited 
and  rushed  back,  seized  my  grip,  turned  out  the 
light  In  the  dining  room,  and  bundled  me  off  up- 
stairs with  my  heart  pounding  like  a  steam  engine. 

I  did  not  know  what  was  up. 

Now,  either  the  German  Secret  Service  had 
shadowed  me  all  the  way  from  Brussels,  or  per- 
haps every  step  of  the  way  since  I  entered  the  coun- 
try, or  else  that  soldier  had  gone  out  and  reported 
me.  Those  officers  demanded  of  the  proprietor  If 
there  was  an  American  In  his  house  and  If  so  what 
he  was  doing  there.  I  don't  know  what  answer  he 
gave  them,  but  after  a  while  they  went  away. 

I  then  had  the  most  enlightening  and  frank 
talk  with  that  civilian  German  conductor  that  I 
have  ever  had  with  a  German  since  this  war  be- 
gan. The  Belgian  hotel  proprietor  had  known 
him  for  several  months  as  a  guest,  and  told  me 
that  I  could  trust  the  man. 

In  the  conversation  the  German  said,  "War  Is 
a  terrible  thing.  It  Is  no  good  for  common  men 
like  me.'' 

"Whynot?"IaskedhIm. 

"Why,"  said  he,  "I  have  a  wife  and  two  chil- 
dren at  home,  and  If  I  go  out  and  get  killed  what 
becomes  of  them  ?  " 


Shadowed  at  Liege  i6i 

I  said,  "Won't  the  Kaiser  take  care  of  them?" 

"Humph,"  he  grunted,  Der  Kaiser!  And  he 
put  his  fingers  in  his  ears  to  indicate  that  the 
Kaiser  would  be  deaf  to  their  appeals.  He  con- 
tinued, Der  Krieg  ist  gut  fiir  die  oberen  Zehn- 
Tausend,  ja,  jaf  aber  es  ist  nicht  gut  fiir  diejenigen 
welche  kdmpfen.  "War  is  good  for  the  upper 
ten  thousand,  yes,  yes  I  but  it  is  no  good  for  the 
ones  who  do  the  fighting."  I  said,  "  You  wouldn't 
dare  to  say  these  things  when  that  soldier  was 
here,  or  in  front  of  military  men,  would  you?" 

Nein,  naturlich  nicht.  Aber  sie  sind  ein  guter 
Kamerad  "No,  naturally  not.  But  you  are  a 
good  comrade." 

This  little  talk  in  which  he  said  that  kings  and 
kaisers  all  ought  to  be  dethroned,  gave  me  an 
idea  that  there  must  be  multitudes  of  men  who  feel 
the  same,  but  because  their  souls  are  not  their  own, 
dare  not  give  voice  to  it.  I  told  the  man  that 
Americans  could  not  understand  how  the  Germans 
could  enter  the  country  and  do  the  frightful  things 
that  they  have  done  to  the  unoffending  Belgians. 
I  said  we  had  thousands  of  kind  and  peaceable 
Germans  in  America,  and  many  of  them  were 
among  our  best  citizens.  "  Ah,"  said  he,  "  it  is  the 
discipline.      These   German  soldiers   were   once 


1 62  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

peaceable  and  kind  citizens  also,  having  families 
like  myself,  but  the  discipline  of  the  army  has 
made  them  warlike  and  unmerciful.  After  one 
year  in  the  Kaiser's  army  they  still  have  some 
heart  left,  after  two  years  less,  after  three  or  four 
years  of  that  discipline  they  have  no  heart  at  all." 

Another  German,  a  soldier,  then  came  in  and 
my  German  friend  shut  up  like  a  clam.     So  did  I. 

I  went  out  next  morning  and  saw  the  ashes  and 
ruins  into  which  the  Germans  had  plunged  the 
city  and  I  had  a  talk  with  one  Belgian  man  who 
had  been  made  an  atheist  by  the  crushing  experi- 
ence. As  I  spoke  with  him,  hearing  his  terrible 
tale,  and  seeing  from  his  shop  window  dozens  of 
homes  which  were  burned  down,  and  beautiful 
buildings  deliberately  desecrated,  my  faith  in  God 
did  not  diminish,  but  my  confidence  in  my  own 
former  pacifism  did,  and  I  felt  a  growing  faith  in 
militancy  when  dealing  with  the  German  who  re- 
spects nothing  on  earth  but  force.  I  was  day  by 
day  realizing  that  he  must  be  dealt  with  on  his  own 
grounds  and  with  his  own  weapons.  It  was  hard 
for  me  to  come  to  this  position  but  the  cold  and 
cruel  facts  were  forcing  it  upon  me. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

RESULTS  OF  '' FRIGHTFULNESS  " 

WHEN  Viellaur  had  given  me  my  passport  to 
Liege  he  had  told  me  orally  to  come  back 
by  the  same  route  I  went.  But  it  did  not  say 
so  in  the  paper  itself,  and  I  ignored  his  instructions. 
I  took  an  extended  trip  south  in  Belgium  and  I 
learned  on  this  instructive  but  sad  journey,  just  how 
the  Germans  hound  the  Belgian  people  and  make 
life  miserable  for  them.  If  the  Belgians  show  any 
resentment  whatever,  they  are  arrested  as  sedi- 
tious persons  and  usually  deported  to  Germany 
to  work  in  the  fields  or  ammunition  factories.  I 
saw  many  instances  where  German  officers  or  sol- 
diers entered  the  homes  of  people  and  commanded 
the  owners  to  stand  back  while  they  searched  the 
place,  and  if  mayhap,  they  found  a  letter  from 
some  friend  in  the  house  which  had  any  complaints 
or  any  sentiment  against  the  German  invasion, 
the  people  were  arrested  and  their  existence  made 
even  more  unhappy. 

On  this  tour  I  also  experienced  something  of  the 
163 


i64  ''Back  From  Heir' 

hard  conditions  from  scarcity  of  food,  and  in  the 
home  of  Madame  Beauvoit,  in  southern  Belgium, 
the  mother  of  one  of  my  parishioners  in  the  States, 
I  ate  black  bread  the  like  of  which  I  have  never 
eaten  before.  I  delivered  a  note  to  her  from  her 
daughter  and  stayed  at  her  house  overnight,  but  I 
could  stay  no  longer  as  I  was  conscious  that  I  was 
eating  up  her  living.  She  told  me  at  supper  that 
they  were  only  allowed  ten  ounces  per  day  of  that 
bread,  bad  as  it  was.  I  could  hardly  push  the  next 
swallow  down  my  throat,  for  I  was  eating  the  life 
of  that  woman.  I  also  observed  the  marvelous 
working  of  Mr.  Hoover's  food  commission  under 
the  management  of  Mr.  Whitlock  and  Hugh  Gib- 
son, and  it  was  a  wonderful  organization  and 
certainly  an  inspiring  sight. 

But  during  those  days  I  looked  upon  scenes  and 
witnessed  spectacles  which  break  the  heart,  and  I 
had  opportunities  of  talking  with  Belgian  people 
in  their  homes,  where  I  stayed  for  meals,  or  in 
which  I  slept,  and  they  told  me  heart-rending  tales 
of  the  experiences  they  had  gone  through. 

For  hours  sometimes  I  would  talk  with  them, 
and  the  information  which  I  thus  obtained  was 
most  enlightening.  They  often  handed  mc  their 
cards  also,  sometimes  requesting  me  to  learn  if  pos- 


Results  of  ''Frightfulness'''  165 

sible  the  whereabouts  of  their  relatives,  for  thou- 
sands of  them  had  fled,  and  been  scattered  afar. 
This  journey  gave  me  an  insight  into  the  motives  of 
the  German  military  men.  One  day  I  stopped  at 
the  little  town  of  Dinant.  There  I  saw  a  place  of 
devastation  so  complete  that  even  the  ruins  of 
volcano-destroyed  Pompeii,  could  not  compare 
with  it.  An  aged  man  who  was  walking  by, 
stopped  and  began  to  talk  to  me.  I  felt  so  sad  on 
seeing  the  awful  picture  that  I  could  hardly  talk. 
In  fact,  as  I  stepped  off  the  train  I  had  burst  into 
sobs.  My  ears,  however,  were  alert  and  I  greed- 
ily drank  in  his  awful  tale.  The  man  pointed  out 
a  wall  of  solid  rock  which  was  riddled  with  bullet 
holes.  I  stuck  my  finger  into  one  of  these  holes 
and  worked  out  a  piece  of  stone,  covered  with 
blood  from  some  poor  man's  heart.  I  still  have  it. 
He  explained  that  more  than  one  hundred  Inno- 
cent Belgians  had  been  lined  up  against  that  wall 
and  shot  to  death  for  no  offense  whatever.  He 
also  said  that  In  some  places  where  the  Belgian 
people  resented  the  invasion  of  their  homes  they 
were  dragged  out  and  lined  up,  and  every  third 
man  was  shot  down  to  set  an  example  to  the  peo- 
ple. The  captain  would  count,  "One  —  two  — 
three ! "  and  the  firing  squad  would  shoot  a  man. 


i66  ''Back  From  Heir' 

Then  again  "  One  —  two  —  three,  shoot  1 ''    "  One 
—  two  —  three,  shoot  I  " 

Out  on  the  public  square  of  Dinant,  more  than 
four  hundred  of  the  civilians  of  the  town  were 
herded  together,  having  been  dragged  from  their 
homes  or  seized  upon  the  streets.  They  were 
huddled  in  that  square  and  ropes  were  stretched 
around  the  company.  Then  the  German  machine 
gun  captain  standing  a  score  of  yards  away,  on  the 
word  of  command,  opened  up  that  death-dealing 
device  which  shoots  more  than  eight  hundred  times 
a  minute,  and  mowed  down  that  crowd  of  people 
on  the  public  square  as  though  it  had  been  cattle  in 
a  slaughter  house.  Nor  did  the  German  Govern- 
ment itself  deny  these  things.  In  fact  it  admitted 
innocent  slaughter,  in  some  cases.  But  it  sought  to 
justify  it  as  a  means  to  its  military  goal.  The 
German  White  Book  itself  speaks  of  the  measures 
taken  at  Dinant.  It  says  that  the  German  soldiers 
were  repairing  a  bridge  which  the  Belgians  had 
destroyed  to  prevent  the  Germans  from  coming 
into  their  town.  But  the  enemy  finally  took  the 
place  and  as  they  worked  on  the  bridge  (so  the 
German  version  reads)  some  Belgians  fired  upon 
them  from  the  roofs  of  the  houses  in  the  vicinity. 
Whereupon  the  soldiers  caught  all  the  Belgian 


Results  of  ''Frightfulness"  167 

people  they  could  find  upon  the  street,  lined  them 
up  against  the  wall,  and  announced  that  if  there 
was  any  further  firing,  these  people  would  all  be 
killed.  The  report  says,  "  Still  the  firing  continued, 
and  then  we  shot  the  innocent  people.  We  had  to 
do  it,  otherwise  our  words  would  have  been  but  an 
idle  threat.  We  were  compelled  to  do  these 
things  in  order  to  accomplish  our  military  goal, 
which  must  be  achieved  at  all  costs." 

And  with  this  ideal  in  view,  they  raged  through 
the  land  leaving  it  little  more  than  a  pile  of  black- 
ened brick  and  ashes  soaked  in  blood.  I  went  to 
Louvain,  to  Mons,  and  Charleroi,  to  Namur  and 
Haecht  and  Aerschot  in  like  manner,  and  in  these 
places  also  I  saw  and  heard  such  heart-breaking 
things.  These  acts  were  the  result  of  the  policy 
of  ''  f rightfulness  "  which  the  Germans  had  been 
taught  thoroughly.  After  sufficient  experience 
with  this  sort  of  thing  and  being  sickened  with  It 
all,  I  finally  turned  my  face  back  toward  the 
north. 


o 


CHAPTER  XXX 

MY  MENTAL  PROCESSES 

F  COURSE  I  did  not  know  what  was  ahead 
of  me,  but  I  knew  from  the  experiences 
which  were  back  of  me  how  I  felt  toward  the 
Germans.  I  had  gotten  so  that  every  time  a  Ger- 
man soldier  passed  me  on  the  street  with  his  arro- 
gant and  hardened  attitude,  I  muttered  the  words, 
"The  scourge,"  under  my  breath.  I  had  seen  the 
invariable  results  of  his  Kultur  and  they  had  in 
every  case  been  sordid  and  degrading.  Hence- 
forth I  could  not  look  upon  him  with  anything 
else  than  contempt  and  hatred.  The  vandalism 
which  I  had  seen  and  the  terrible  crimes  that  I 
had  learned  of,  aroused  in  me  something  that 
I  had  not  realized  before.  An  anger  such  as 
seldom  comes  to  men  and  such  as  I  had  not  sus- 
pected my  pacifist  nature  capable  of,  now  seized 
hold  of  me.  I  vowed  in  my  secret  self  that  if 
I  ever  got  out  alive  I  would  throw  the  weight 
of  my  small  influence  against  that  inhuman 
machine. 

i68 


fi 


My  Mental  Processes  169 

The  Good  Book  speaks  of  a  "  righteous  indigna- 
tion," and  if  ever  there  was  such  a  thing  In  the 
heart  of  a  human  I  believe  it  had  possession  of 
me  then.  Nor  was  It  a  momentary  Impulse.  I 
had  grimly  and  deliberately  gone  from  place  to 
place,  day  after  day,  for  the  purpose  of  collecting 
unbiased  facts  and  Impressions  and  these  latter 
had  taken  their  own  course  In  my  heart  and  brain. 
Of  course  I  wrote  nothing  down.  I  made  no  at- 
tempt to  get  a  single  letter  out  of  Belgium  during 
all  the  time  that  I  was  there.  I  was  afraid  that 
it  would  get  me  Into  trouble  when  I  came  to 
leave.  I  kept  no  diary  whatever.  I  needed  none. 
All  the  things  which  I  have  related  have  been  from 
memory,  but  these  facts  were  so  vividly  burned 
into  my  soul  that  they  will  never  be  forgotten 
unless  my  faculty  of  memory  be  permanently  de- 
stroyed. I  did  not  write  down  the  Impressions 
which  came  to  me,  or  the  process  of  conversion 
which  was  constantly  taking  place  within  my  being. 
I  dared  not  commit  these  things  to  paper.  I  real- 
ized that  I  was  in  the  hands  of  a  powerful  and 
terrible  people  who  would  show  no  mercy  upon 
one  who  was  not  in  sympathy  with  its  aims  and 
methods.  Nevertheless,  I  swore  that  if  I  ever 
got  free  from  them  I  would  tell  the  world  the 


I70  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

facts  and  do  everything  within  my  power  to  thwart 
them  and  their  purposes. 

Before  I  had  left  the  States  I  had  not  only  been 
a  pacifist,  but  I  had  been  neutral  as  well.  Any 
person  in  my  former  congregation  could  testify 
that  I  never  spoke  one  word  from  the  platform 
against  the  Germans,  but  now  I  have  no  hesitation 
in  condemning  them  with  vehemence  and  oppos- 
ing them  with  violence.  It  might  seem  to  some  as 
though  this  was  a  strange  attitud'e  for  a  minister 
of  Christ  to  take,  but  I  was  led  on  as  inevitably  to 
this  position  as  the  compass  needle  seeks  the  pole. 
I  had  no  choice.  I  could  not  help  myself,  but  to- 
day I  am  proud  to  state  that  I  accepted  this  conclu- 
sion and  that  deliberately  and  boldly  I  will  de- 
fend it. 

In  a  Utopian  world  one  can  act  in  a  Utopian 
manner.  And  a  Utopian  world  is  a  beautiful 
theory.  But  It  Is  a  theory  and  a  dream.  You  and 
I  today  are  living  in  a  world  of  stern,  cruel  fact; 
in  this  world  of  fact  we  find  the  stern,  cruel  Ger- 
man. We  find  him  here  in  possession  of  a  land 
which  he  has  stolen  by  stern,  cruel,  and  murderous 
methods.  He  intends  to  keep  that  land,  perpetu- 
ate those  methods,  and  steal  more  land  by  identical 
methods.     These  are  the  methods  he  knows  and 


n 

a,    V) 


^P 


'  My  Mental  Processes  171 

employs.  These  are  the  only  methods  he  respects 
or  that  make  any  impression  on  him  whatever. 
Then  we  must  use  stern  methods  against  him  in 
order  to  overcome  and  thwart  him  and  restore  the 
world  to  normal  methods  and  life.  Otherwise  he 
will  encroach  and  impose  his  system  upon  the 
whole  world  and  his  method  will  be  the  permanent 
and  the  universal  fate. 

If  we  see  a  wolf  we  meet  him  with  force.  If 
we  deal  with  a  kind  man  we  meet  him  with  kind- 
ness. If  we  meet  a  reasonable  and  intelligent  be- 
ing we  answer  him  with  reason  and  intelligent 
argument,  and  if  we  find  vicious,  violent  men, 
whether  burglars,  I.  W.  W.'s,  or  Germans,  we 
meet  them  with  police,  with  militia,  and  with  force. 
In  a  world  of  fact  this  is  the  only  way  we  have  of 
meeting  such.  We  cannot  confront  a  real  and 
stern  and  urgent  situation  with  a  hazy  theory, 
beautiful  as  it  may  be.  In  the  meantime,  if  we  do, 
we  will  have  no  country.  We  will  have  a  German- 
ized world,  and  from  our  recent  experience  of 
Germanism  we  are  convinced  that  this  would  be 
defiantly  opposed  to  the  will  of  God. 

Being  an  American  citizen  It  was  natural  that 
the  ideals  of  our  constitution  should  be  rooted  In 
my  nature,  and  now  I  could  not  but  bring  them  into 


172  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

contrast  with  the  ideals  of  Germanism  as  demon- 
strated in  this  war.  I  believed  these  American 
principles  to  be  Christian  principles  and  the  very 
backbone  of  them  to  be  at  cross  purposes  with  the 
German  goal.  Our  forefathers  ordained  and 
established  that  constitution  in  order  to  establish 
justice  which  the  German  had  tried  to  break  down 
while  he  established  injustice.  Our  forefathers 
desired  to  promote  the  general  welfare  and  insure 
the  blessings  of  liberty  to  themselves  and  to  poster- 
ity, while  the  German  machine  had  existed  and  had 
begun  this  war  for  the  purpose  of  enslaving  people 
and  exploiting  them,  thus  depriving  them  of 
liberty. 

Now  one  or  the  other  of  these  viewpoints  was 
right.  If  America  was  right,  Germany  was 
wrong.  Every  clod  and  stone  of  Belgium  de- 
clared the  guilt  of  Germany.  And  I  now  declare 
that  Germany  is  wrong!  And  therefore  when 
she  menaces  the  world  in  a  military  sense  she  must 
be  put  down  by  military  means.  When  one  rea- 
sons the  matter  out  from  the  facts  he  cannot  get 
away  from  this  logic.  Germany  must  be  put 
down  by  military  means  I 

Now,  of  course,  I  did  not  say  this  to  the  Ger- 
mans who  were  constantly  on  guard  in  the  towns 


My  Mental  Processes  173 

and  cities.  I  had  no  military  forces  at  my  com- 
mand. They  hadthe  guns.  Nevertheless,  I  was 
now  morally  on  the  side  of  the  Allied  nations  who 
were  fighting  to  defend  justice,  right,  and  truth.  I 
firmly  believe  that  this  eye-opening  experience  In 
Belgium  under  the  very  noses  of  the  Germans  and 
within  their  very  power  was  the  thing  which 
brought  me  to  a  right  perspective  of  life  and  to  be 
able  to  clearly  see  things  in  their  relative  and 
proper  values. 

My  viewpoint  changed,  and  I  am  sure  that  I  can 
never  be  the  same  man  again.  Nobody  can  be  the 
same  who  has  been  in  this  war. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

A   NIGHT  IN   LOUVAIN 

IN  PARIS  I  had  met  and  talked  with  Arno 
Dosch  Fleuro,  an  American  reporter  who  had 
been  with  Richard  Harding  Davis  at  Louvain 
while  it  was  burning.  He  had  told  me  that  when 
he  was  there  the  party  was  locked  In  a  railroad  car 
but  that  they  could  see  the  blazing  buildings  from 
the  car  window  and  hear  and  see  the  ungodly  things 
which  were  taking  place  In  the  station  square.  The 
German  soldiers  were  heavily  Intoxicated  and  were 
bringing  lots  of  Belgians  from  all  quarters  of  the 
city  and  executing  them. 

One  group  of  soldiers  would  come  In  from  the 
street,  driving  perhaps  a  dozen  or  twenty  Belgians 
ahead  of  them.  They  would  bring  them  Into  the 
station  square,  hand  them  over  to  another  detach- 
ment which  would  take  them  out  behind  the  station, 
and  a  volley  of  bullets  would  be  heard.  Then 
another  crowd  would  be  brought  In.  They  too 
would  be  taken  out  behind  the  depot  and  then  an- 
other volley  of  bullets. 

'74 


A  Night  in  Louvain  175 

One  hilarious  German  jumped  up  onto  a  wagon 
and  began  haranguing  and  explaining  why  It  was 
necessary  for  these  people  to  be  killed. 

"The  whole  Louvain  affair,  the  wanton  burn- 
ing and  the  murder,  was  nothing  more  than  a 
drunken  orgy."  This  was  Arno's  statement.  The 
officers  acquiesced  In  the  affair,  but  later  on  when 
learning  of  the  effect  on  neutral  countries,  the 
Kaiser  said,  "  My  heart  bleeds  for  Louvain." 
Arno  also  said  that  he  was  the  only  one  of  the 
party  In  the  car  who  could  speak  German  and  he 
had  kept  one  soldier  who  was  not  so  drunk  as  the 
rest,  engaged  In  conversation  at  the  car  window, 
and  this  had  protected  them  from  the  more  intoxi- 
cated ones. 

I  knew  that  Arno  himself  was  a  German  and  I 
asked  him  if  he  had  seen  Richard  Harding  Davis' 
book  on  the  subject.  He  said,  "No,  Davis  got 
back  long  before  I  did,  but  I  have  heard  that  he 
wrote  a  book  about  it.  What  did  he  say?  Did  he 
say  he  was  out  in  the  town  of  Louvain  ?  If  he  did, 
he  Is  faking  It  up,  because  we  were  all  locked  In  the 
car.  V 

I  said  I  could  not  remember  just  what  Davis 
had  said.  When  I  returned  to  my  room  in  Paris, 
however,  I  looked  up  Davis*  story  again  and  found 


176  ''Back  From  Heir' 

it  had  agreed  exactly  with  Arno's  account.  He  ad- 
mitted that  they  had  not  been  out  of  the  train,  so  I 
knew  the  narrative  was  true. 

Later  on  when  I  went  to  Louvain  myself,  I 
found  that  instead  of  exaggerating  the  case  these 
men  had  very  much  understated  it.  I  am  not  go- 
ing to  overstate  it,  but  I  will  not  cover  up  the  facts 
in  my  recital  of  the  events.  I  was  in  Louvain 
twice,  but  the  first  time  I  only  saw  it  hurriedly  and 
superficially  on  my  way  to  Liege.  The  second 
time  I  stayed  a  night  and  a  day.  Before  the  war 
began  the  city  had  a  population  of  forty-five  thou- 
sand. It  had  perhaps  ten  thousand  then.  It  was 
not  all  destroyed  and  the  statement  that  the  Hotel 
de  Ville  was  burned  is  incorrect.  That  beautiful 
city  hall  was  saved  by  the  Germans  for  their  own 
use.  Outside  of  this  one  building,  however,  every 
public  building  in  Louvain  is  in  ruins  today.  For 
several  square  miles  in  the  heart  of  the  city  there  is 
not  a  structure  left.  The  cathedral  is  burned,  al- 
though the  walls  still  stand.  The  university 
library  is  gone,  and  in  fact,  aside  from  a  fringe  of 
houses,  mostly  tenements,  around  the  edge  of  the 
city  the  most  of  the  edifices  are  razed  to  the 
ground.  And  a  man  with  whom  I  talked  told  me 
that  fifteen  of  his   fellow-townsmen  there  were 


A  Night  in  Louvain  177 

taken  by  the  German  soldiers  and  thrown  alive 
into  a  vat  of  quicklime  in  a  factory  and  were  left 
to  die  In  the  agonies  of  hell.  He  pointed  out  the 
place  and  told  the  story,  crying  as  he  did  so.  I 
believed  him. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

RUIN  AND  DEATH 

IN  THE  course  of  my  travels  I  happened  to  run 
across  two  Belgians,  one  of  whom  had  a 
brother  at  Andenne.  Upon  learning  that  I  was  an 
American  he  became  very  friendly  and  confiden- 
tial and  requested  that  I  call  upon  his  brother, 
giving  me  a  card  to  him  and  assuring  me  that  I 
would  find  a  cordial  reception.  He  said  Andenne 
presented  one  of  the  saddest  spectacles  of  the 
entire  district  and  his  brother  had  passed  through 
the  whole  ordeal.  At  the  time  he  told  me  this  I 
was  on  my  way  from  Liege  to  Namur.  It  was 
necessary  to  take  a  horse  conveyance  a  part  of  the 
distance,  between  Flemalle  and  Huy,  and  I  had 
this  conversation  with  him  In  the  hack.  I  was  very 
glad  to  act  upon  his  suggestion  and  Instead  of 
going  Into  Namur  that  evening  I  got  off  at  An- 
denne. It  was  not  difficult  to  find  the  man's 
brother  and  when  I  gave  him  the  card  and  told 
him  I  was  an  American  he  certainly  did  treat  me 
royally.     That  evening  we  talked   far  into  the 

178 


Ruin  and  Death  179 

night.  He  showed  me  the  destruction  which  the 
Germans  had  wrought  in  his  own  home  and  told 
me  of  the  things  they  had  stolen  from  him.  Inci- 
dentally, the  desk  in  his  front  room  had  been 
locked  when  the  Germans  broke  into  the  house, 
but  they  had  overturned  it,  smashed  the  drawers 
in  from  the  bottom  and  thoroughly  looted  it. 

The  next  morning  he  took  me  for  a  walk 
through  the  town.  As  we  went  through  the  streets 
I  noticed  that  every  house  in  the  place  had  been 
riddled  with  bullet  holes.  There  were  hundreds 
of  holes  right  through  the  solid  brick.  The  Ger- 
man machine  gunners  had  simply  gone  through  the 
place  and  raked  every  house  so  that  if  there  was  a 
single  person  in  it,  even  asleep  in  his  bed,  those 
bullets  would  seek  him  out  and  send  him  to  meet 
his  God.  Besides  this,  every  house  had  the  front 
doors  and  windows  smashed  in  and  now  tempor- 
ary boardings  were  nailed  up  in  the  place  of  them. 
By  and  by  in  the  progress  of  our  walk  we  came 
to  the  edge  of  the  town. 

There,  along  the  side  of  the  road,  he  showed 
me  two  tremendous  graves  side  by  side.  I  am 
sure  they  were  not  less  than  fifteen  by  twenty-five 
feet  in  dimension  and  piled  up  a  couple  of  feet 
high  with  quicklime. 


i8o ''Back  From  Hell'' 

"  There  are  sixty  of  my  fellow-townsmen  buried 
in  each  one  of  those  graves,"  said  my  escort. 
**  Piled  in  there  three  deep.  These  men  were 
shot  down  by  the  German  soldiers  when  they 
entered  the  town  for  no  other  offense  than  that  of 
being  Belgian  citizens." 

The  thing  seemed  incredible.  "Are  you  certain 
about  this?"  I  asked  him.  "Were  you  person- 
ally acquainted  with  these  innocent  people  who 
were  murdered?" 

"  I  have  lived  here  all  my  life,"  he  replied,  "  and 
I  am  thirty-five  years  old.  This  was  a  place  of 
four  thousand  people  before  the  war  and  naturally 
I  must  have  known  almost  everybody  in  the  town." 

I  then  said  to  him,  "  Would  you  be  willing  to 
give  me  a  list  of  the  names  of  some  of  the  people 
whom  you  know  to  have  been  innocently  mur- 
dered?" He  said  he  would  be  very  glad  to  do  so, 
and  when  we  got  back  to  his  house  he  took  a  piece 
of  paper  and  in  a  very  few  minutes'  time  wrote 
out  a  list  of  fifteen  or  twenty  names,  bracketing 
those  which  belonged  to  the  same  family.  In 
some  instances  whole  families  of  three  to  five  peo- 
ple were  annihilated  by  the  Germans. 

That  little  piece  of  paper  later  on  came  very 
nearly  getting  me  executed.    But  it  served  to  show 


Ruin  and  Death  i8i 

the  deliberate  policy  of  terrorism  and  frightful- 
ness  which  the  Huns  pursued.  The  man  pointed 
out  house  after  house,  naming  the  owner  and  his 
occupation  where  these  murders  had  been  com- 
mitted. 

Later  on  I  went  to  Aerschot.  I  had  read  In  the 
Bryce  report  of  Aerschot.  When  I  entered  the 
town  on  the  electric  tram  car  I  saw  the  old  familiar 
sight.  It  was  the  spectacle  of  gable  ends  of  houses 
and  stores  sticking  up  toward  heaven,  the  roofs 
having  fallen  in,  all  burned  out  Inside  and  gaping 
at  me  from  the  smoke-blackened  window  holes 
where  formerly  the  faces  of  the  little  children 
smiled.  The  whole  town  was  In  ruins.  I  entered 
a  little  shack  where  a  woman  was  keeping  store. 
We  had  a  short  conversation  about  the  tragic  ex- 
periences there  and  finally  when  I  started  to  leave 
she  became  excited  and  frantic.  I  saw  anger  and 
tears  coming  into  her  eyes  and  she  shot  forth  her 
hand  and  almost  screamed,  "Yes,  and  my  own 
husband  was  shot  down  by  my  side  also,  as  we 
were  hiding  in  the  cellar!  We  saw  the  German 
soldiers  coming  and  we  rushed  below  for  refuge. 
They  broke  into  our  house,  stole  what  they  wanted, 
and  then  hunted  us  out  in  the  cellar  and  shot  my 
husband  by  my  side.     They  then  seized  my  own 


i82  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

father,  sixty-eight  years  of  age,  handcuffed  him 
and  dragged  him  out  to  the  public  square  where 
with  numbers  of  others  of  our  townsmen  he  was 
shot  down  in  cold  blood  and  left  lying  unburied  on 
the  open  square  for  two  nights  and  two  days. 
They  wouldn't  even  let  me  bury  him.*' 

And  so  it  was  that  this  kind  of  experience  was 
repeated  over  and  over  again  as  I  journeyed 
through  desolated  Belgium.  The  Germans  put 
a  deliberate  policy  of  murder  and  of  vandalism 
into  awful  execution. 

They  laid  low  the  country  on  every  hand.  The 
traveler  sees  a  remarkable  country  and  a  wonder- 
ful civilization,  but  one  which  has  been  annihilated 
by  the  unappreciative  Hun,  a  brother  to  the  beast. 
I  have  seen  marvelously  beautiful  cathedrals, 
adorned  by  the  conceptions  of  the  greatest  mas- 
ters, built  in  honor  of  the  one  great  Master  who 
said,  "All  ye  are  brethren,"  shot  to  pieces  by  can- 
non, riddled  by  machine  guns,  burned  up  by  flam- 
ing projectiles,  thrown  with  terribly  deliberate  and 
accurate  aim;  cathedrals  where  the  Christ  had 
once  been  worshiped,  and  where  the  holy  instincts 
of  gentleness  and  love  were  inculcated.  Now  the 
figures  of  the  Christ  have  sword  thrusts  In  their 
sides  and  the  hands  and  feet  and  face  are  pierced 


Ruin  and  Death  183 

with  bullets  from  the  machine  guns.  I  have  seen 
widows  wearing  crape,  with  babies  In  their  arms 
who  cried  for  food  and  have  been  told  by  them  as 
their  eyes  flamed  up,  how  their  loved  ones  were 
shot  down  by  their  sides  or  taken  out  and  bayo- 
neted In  their  sight;  loved  ones  who  had  no  part 
in  the  battle. 

When  the  people  learned  that  the  German  Army 
had  entered  the  town  they  frequently  took  refuge 
In  the  cellar,  but  the  relentless  soldiers  sought 
them  out.  They  broke  In  the  doors  and  windows 
of  the  houses,  stole  the  goods  which  they  could 
carry,  shot  the  men  and  then  set  fire  to  the  home, 
and  In  not  a  few  cases  they  shot  and  bayoneted  the 
women  and  the  babies.  Priests  also  were  made 
a  special  object  of  attack  and  the  repeated  narra- 
tives of  particular  cruelty  toward  them  could  not 
but  carry  conviction.  A  priest  of  Louvain  who 
had  escaped  to  Holland,  later  told  me  of  forty 
of  his  fellow-priests  being  trapped  In  their  head- 
quarters and  every  one  shot  down. 

At  the  little  town  of  B the  soldiers  de- 
manded the  keys  to  the  church  from  the  Belgian 
priest.  In  order  that  they  could  go  in  and  burn  it. 
When  the  priest  refused  they  dragged  him  out  of 
the  house,  over  to  the  steps  of  the  church,  where 


i84  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

they  cut  off  his  ears  and  nose  and  left  him  there 
alone,  where  Death  shortly  found  him.  These 
facts  are  corroborated  by  witnesses,  who  take 
solemn  oath  to  the  truth  of  them;  and  to  anyone 
who  has  been  In  Belgium  during  the  present  war, 
no  tale  of  savagery  would  sound  too  wild  for  be- 
lief. The  Huns  have  forgotten  that  they 
ever  were  human  beings  and  have  reverted  to  the 
wolf,  and  so  they  swarmed  through  Belgium  and 
through  northern  France,  this  scourge  of  God, 
two  million  strong,,  blasting  and  withering  every- 
thing they  touched. 

As  I  traveled  through  the  country  I  saw  houses 
by  the  scores  and  hundreds  upon  which  machine 
guns  had  been  turned,  while  occupied  by  un- 
armed and  Innocent  people,  and  the  tragedy  was 
fearful.  These  things  I  have  seen  with  my  own 
eyes  and  heard  with  my  own  ears.  The  high 
power  of  these  modern  shooting  devices  Is  almost 
beyond  conception.  At  L I  saw  two  rapid- 
fire  guns  as  I  got  off  the  train  at  the  station,  little 
gray.  Innocent  looking  things,  a  sort  of  rifle  barrel 
mounted  on  a  tripod,  with  a  shield  for  the  operator 
to  stand  behind,  yet  those  guns  could  shoot  seven 
hundred  times  a  minute  and  when  equipped  with 
an  electric  motor  they  shoot  four  times  that  num- 


Rutn  and  Death  185 

ber,  and  they  shoot  to  kill.  Often  with  a  range  of 
two  to  three  miles,  they  will  deal  sure  death  at  a 
distance  of  a  mile  and  a  half.  They  are  con- 
stantly trained  on  the  city.  Then  their  big  guns 
astound  the  reason  I 

The  Springfield  rifle  has  a  range  of  five  miles 
and  the  bullet  on  leaving  the  gun  goes  at  a  velocity 
of  half  a  mile  a  second,  or  enough  momentum  to 
drive  It  through  four  and  one-half  feet  of  white 
pine.  The  siege  guns  which  the  Germans  dragged 
up  before  the  forts  of  Liege  could  drive  a  tremen- 
dous hole  a  foot  and  a  half  in  diameter  through 
twelve  feet  of  solid  concrete  or  four  feet  of  solid 
steel. 

Yet,  notwithstanding  this,  having  all  the  hellish 
machinery  of  war  that  the  mind  is  capable  of  de- 
vising, they  want  still  more  and  are  ready  to  pay 
handsome  sums  to  clever  inventors  who  will  turn 
out  new  and  unheard  of  Instruments  of  torture 
and  death.  They  build  boats  which  submerge 
themselves  beneath  the  ocean,  and  from  this  posi- 
tion of  vantage  hurl  deadly  missiles  and  send  to 
the  bottom  giant  ships  carrying  thousands  of  inno- 
cent human  lives;  they  experiment  until  they  find 
deadly  gases  which  can  be  projected  at  the  enemy, 
causing  indescribable  agony  as  they  are  breathed 


i86  ''Back  From  Heir' 

into  the  lungs,  while  the  unhappy  victim  writhes 
in  pain  and  shortly  dies;  that  they  may  be  more 
terrible  than  Attila,  the  Hun,  in  their  policy  of 
frightfulness,  in  order  to  subjugate  the  world,  yet 
they  have  failed,  in  that  they  have  neglected  to 
take  into  view  the  eternal  laws  of  God.  They 
have  forgotten  that  the  race  is  not  always  to  the 
swift  nor  the  battle  to  the  strong.  Eternal  laws 
cannot  be  frustrated,  and  Germany  has  failed! 
Again  I  say,  Germany  has  failed!  History  teaches 
him  who  is  able  to  learn,  that  the  Creator  never 
meant  one  regime  to  rule  the  world.  The  Hun 
has  failed.  The  Kaiser  does  not  govern  the  Al- 
mighty nor  run  this  universe.  Man  is  dust  and 
God  alone  is  great. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

IN  THE  PALACE  OF  THE  KING 

WHILE  I  was  in  Brussels  I  stayed  all  the 
time  at  the  same  hotel,  that  of  Madame 
Baily-Moremans,  No.  26,  Rue  de  Vieux  Marche 
au  Grains,  down  near  the  Bourse.  Her  maiden 
name  had  been  Moremans  but  over  there  when  a 
woman  is  married  her  name  often  comes  last  in- 
stead of  the  man's.  Here  it  would  be  Madame 
Moremans-Baily. 

White  sitting  in  the  cafe  one  day,  she  intro- 
duced me  to  a  wounded  French  soldier  from  Paris 
who  was  a  prisoner  of  war.  He  had  had  one  leg 
shot  off  but  was  about  on  his  wooden  leg  and  was 
staying  at  King  Albert's  palace,  which  had  been 
converted  into  a  Red  Cross  hospital.  He  was 
allowed  by  the  Germans  one  free  afternoon  a 
week,  to  go  down  town  for  two  hours,  and  I  met 
him  on  one  of  these  occasions.  He  told  me  many 
strange  tales  of  frightfulness  and  gave  me  his 
card,  asking  me  to  come  and  visit  him  at  the  pal- 
ace.    You  cannot  go  there  except  you  have  the 

187 


i88 ''Back  From  Hell'' 

name  of  someone  whom  you  wish  to  see,  and  then 
you  may  visit  only  on  Sunday  afternoon  between 
two  and  three  o'clock.  German  sentinels  are  con- 
stantly on  guard  outside  of  the  palace.  When  I 
went  to  see  him  he  presented  me  with  a  photo- 
graph of  himself,  and  having  told  him  confiden- 
tially that  I  was  going  back  to  France,  he  gave  me 
his  mother's  address  in  Paris.  I  afterward  found 
her  and  told  her  about  her  son. 

While  I  was  talking  with  him  I  noticed  that  he 
was  continually  rubbing  his  arm,  and  I  finally 
asked  him  what  was  the  matter.  He  then  told  me 
of  his  own  almost  incredible  experience.  He  said 
he  was  lying  on  the  ground  at  the  battle  of  the 
Marne,  with  his  leg  blown  off  by  shrapnel;  while 
helpless  there  in  this  condition  a  German  sergeant 
came  up  and  attempted  to  go  through  his  pockets 
and  rob  him  of  some  money  which  he  had  upon 
his  person.  He  objected,  naturally,  and  I  suppose 
protested  violently,  as  any  human  would.  Where- 
upon the  German  drew  his  saber  and  gashed  him 
across  his  right  arm  and  then  drew  his  pistol  and 
shot  him  through  his  left  shoulder. 

As  the  man  finished  telling  me  he  looked  about 
to  see  If  any  women  were  near,  and  not  seeing 
any,  pulled  off  his  coat,  rolled  his  sleeve  way  up, 


In  the  Palace  of  the  King  189 

and  showed  me  one  of  the  most  ugly  gashes  that  I 
have  ever  seen.  His  arm  was  half  cut  off,  and  I 
shall  never  forget  to  my  dying  day  the  look  of  re- 
venge that  was  on  his  face.  Nevertheless  Jean 
was  a  good  fellow  and  talked  and  laughed  in  spite 
of  his  mutilated  condition. 

The  daughter  of  the  landlady  of  the  hotel  had 
accompanied  me  to  the  palace,  and  as  we  were 
leaving  the  place  we  were  both  looking  with  bulg- 
ing eyes  about  those  great  salons  and  taking  in  the 
marvelous  chandeliers  and  gorgeous  mosaics. 
Presently  she  said  in  a  childish  way,  "I  don't  — 
think — I  —  should  like  to  be  a  queen  —  it's  all 
too  large  and  grand  for  me.  I  would  rather  live  in 
my  own  humble  little  home,  down  town." 

I  have  never  forgotten  that  remark  of  the  little 
Belgian  girl.  For  as  I  reflected  on  it  I  thought  of 
Belgium's  queen,  and  where  she  now  is  —  an  out- 
cast, an  exile,  having  no  country  and  no  home, 
while  the  little  girl  did  have  one,  such  as  it  was. 
It  was  a  home  nevertheless. 

The  words  of  the  poet  came  back  to  me, 
Princes  and  lords  may  flourish  or  may  fade; 
A  breath  can  make  them,  as  a  breath  has  made: 
But  a  bold  peasantry ^  the  country's  pride, 
When  once  destroyed,  can  never  be  supplied 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

THE  kaiser's  envy 

TWO  thousand  years  ago  an  invading  mon- 
arch, Julius  Caesar,  in  his  Commentaries 
said  that  the  Belgians  were  the  best  fighting  men 
that  he  had  met;  and  the  reason  was  that  they 
inhabited  the  best  country  he  had  visited. 

Part  of  the  ground  is  mountainous  and  in  some 
places  it  rises  sheer  in  the  air  for  a  thousand  feet 
in  solid  rock  and  makes  a  formidable  position  for 
a  stronghold  or  fortress. 

In  other  places  it  rolls  away  from  the  eye  for 
miles  in  beautiful  valleys,  and  fertile  plains.  The 
view  reminds  one  of  a  great  ocean  on  a  calm 
and  peaceful  day.  A  fertile  country,  made 
doubly  so  by  the  ingenuity  and  industry  of  its  in- 
habitants. The  people  of  this  remarkable  land 
have  constructed  reservoirs  and  dug  canals,  erect- 
ing dykes  and  curious  windmills,  so  that  like  Hol- 
land, her  nearest  neighbor,  Belgium  has  irrigated 
her  fields  and  made  her  water  supply  regular,  and 
therefore  her  crops  are  certain. 

190 


The  Kaiser's  Envy  191^ 

[The  traveler  as  he  passes  through  on  foot  or  on 
the  meandering  tramways  is  pleasantly  surprised 
to  see  the  abundance  of  the  verdure  and  heaviness 
of  the  grain  in  the  fields  and  is  often  amused  to 
see  the  little  carts  go  by  loaded  high  with  produce, 
drawn  to  market  by  the  stout  family  dog,  or, 
as  is  more  often  the  case,  two.  These  faithful 
friends  display  amazing  strength  and  willingness 
and  when  hitched  up  will  pull  almost  like  a  horse. 
Dairying  is  an  important  product  in  Belgium,  and 
great  cans  of  milk  are  loaded  on  these  carts  and 
the  thirsty  one  can  buy  a  pint  for  a  penny  or  two 
and  drink  it  as  he  stands  upon  the  street  by  the 
cart,  while  the  family  dog  is  lying  down  under  it. 

The  spectacle  of  the  peasant  folk  thus  hauling 
about  their  wares  is  very  picturesque.  A  man  or 
woman  following  a  dog-cart  and  often  times  lend- 
ing a  hand  to  help  push  the  load,  is  a  very  ordi- 
nary scene  in  the  streets  of  that  little  country  of 
one  hundred  miles  square,  but  its  prosperity  and 
beauty  present  a  peculiar  fascination  to  anyone 
who  has  seen  it.  The  German  Emperor  had  seen 
it,  and  that  was  why  he  had  attacked  it. 

Covetousness,  that  strange  quality,  appears  to 
be  a  part  of  the  make-up  of  the  human  mind.  The 
devil  apparently  injected  this  fatal  poison  into  the 


192 ''Back  From  Hell" 

veins  of  man.  Most  people  hold  it  partially  under 
control,  but  some  give  free  reign  to  it  and  allow  it 
to  become  the  ruling  power  in  their  lives.  The 
Kaiser,  reared  in  an  artificial  atmosphere,  has  not 
been  able  to  resist  this  temptation,  and  so  in  his 
life  it  has  been  given  unbounded  sway;  and,  what 
is  worse,  through  many  patient  years  he  has  inocu- 
lated othei;  men  with  the  virus  and  under  its  influ- 
ence built  up  a  great  machine  for  military  con- 
quest. 

He  has  always  dreamed  of  world  empire.  He 
once  said,  "I  have  been  raised  upon  the  lives  of 
Alexander,  Theodoric,  Caesar,  Frederick  the 
Great,  and  Napoleon.  These  men  all  dreamed 
of  world  empire.  They  failed.  I  have  dreamed 
of  world  empire,  and  by  the  might  of  the  mailed 
fist  I  shall  not  fail."  He  and  the  clique  of  men 
whom  he  has  gathered  about  him  possess  a 
marvelous  amount  of  persistence  and  thorough- 
ness, feeling  also  a  superiority  over  other  peoples, 
and  they  have  depended  upon  might  to  bring  them 
victory. 

Some  delusion  inherited  from  his  ancestors  and 
cultivated  by  his  intimate  friends  caused  the 
Kaiser,  even  when  a  very  young  man,  to  believe 
that  he  had  a  God-given  right  to  possess  anything 


The  Kaiser's  Envy  193 

that  he  could  acquire,  either  by  fair  means  or  foul, 
and  he  has  never  taken  any  pains  to  control  or 
diminish  the  conviction.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  on 
the  contrary,  he  studiously  cultivated  and  nursed 
it  until  it  came  to  be  the  absorbing  ambition  of  his 
life.  When  he  came  to  the  throne  thirty  years 
ago  he  announced  himself  as  "Earth's  supreme 
war  lord."  And  because  his  empire  continued  to 
grow  and  develop  rapidly,  he  seemed  to  take  it 
that  the  forces  of  the  universe  were  backing  him 
up  and  that  the  Creator  was  with  him  and  had 
given  him  special  dispensation  to  manage  the 
universe. 

In  the  beginning,  doubtless,  his  conceptions  had 
been  more  vague  and  abstract,  but  as  time  went 
on  they  became  definite  and  concrete.  He  had 
seen  the  happy  and  prosperous  lands  of  Belgium 
and  France  to  the  west,  and  he  had  wanted  them. 
This  settled  the  matter.  It  might  shock  the  world 
and  cost  a  terrific  price,  but  that  was  incidental. 
Let  others  "pay  the  piper,"  he  would  reap  the 
gain.  His  philosophy  of  "Might  makes  Right" 
cleverly  disseminated  through  the  empire,  has 
caused  many  of  his  people  to  believe  in  it. 

When  one  examines  for  a  moment  this  concep- 
tion which  these  German  people  have  been  taught, 


194  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

it  makes  their  attitude  more  understandable,  al- 
though no  more  excusable.  For  a  generation  or 
more  they  have  been  taught  the  "blood  and  iron 
philosophy."  The  crime  is  to  be  laid  at  the  door 
of  the  leaders  and  the  thinkers,  and  the  great  men 
of  the  nation.  These  have  been  false  teachers, 
and  "when  the  blind  lead  the  blind,  both  fall  into 
the  ditch."  They  have  inculcated  a  system  of 
thinking,  into  the  minds  of  large  numbers  of  peo- 
ple, which  leads  them  to  believe  that  they  are 
especially  designed  to  dominate  the  world.  Any 
means  which  they  may  employ  to  attain,  estab- 
lish, and  maintain  their  supremacy  are  justifiable. 
Even  the  professors  in  the  schools  and  the  theo- 
logians, as  well,  will  unblushingly  defend  this  posi- 
tion and  justify  German  crime.  As  a  result  of  this 
doctrine  —  see  Belgium  and  northern  France! 
Belgium,  a  murdered  country,  a  ravished  people, 
justice  outraged,  homes  violated,  churches  dese- 
crated, altars  battered  down,  black  hell  turned 
loose,  and  all  "justified"  by  the  German  conten- 
tion. Ninety-three  of  the  leading  professors  in 
the  university,  men  to  whom  the  world  looked  for 
light,  but  unfortunately  men  whose  salaries  might 
be  cut  off  by  the  Kaiser  at  an  hour's  notice,  de- 
fended this  outrage,  saying  that  Belgium  was  not 


The  Kaiser's  Envy  195 

wronged.    It  is  safe  to  assume  that  the  Kaiser  re- 
quested the  statement. 

Barbarian  savages  centuries  ago  defended  the 
same  identical  argument  that  might  is  the  right  of 
the  stronger.  The  nation's  leaders,  such  as  Bis- 
marck and  Bernhardi,  Treitschke,  Nietzsche,  and 
the  Kaiser  himself  have  advocated  this  doctrine. 
Emperor  William  once  told  his  troops  to  make 
themselves  as  terrible  as  Attila,  the  Hun.  They 
have  not  forgotten  this,  for  in  Belgium  they  exe- 
cuted his  command  in  a  grimly  literal  sense. 


CHAPTER  XXXy 

CAUGHT  BY  THE  HUNS  AND  TRIED  AS  A  SPY 

WHEN   I   returned  to   Brussels   I   applied 
at  the  German  office  for  a  pass  to  Hol- 
land.   I  was  told  to  come  back  '*  Next  Tuesday," 
which  was  five  days  hence !     Meanwhile  the  Ger- 
mans kept  my  American  passport.     I  was  angry 
again.    But  I  decided  it  was  no  use  to  worry  Mr. 
Whitlock,  as  he  could  have  no  influence  with  these 
German  officials  anyway.     His  heart  was  willing 
but  his  power  was  weak  with  them.     He  had 
frankly  said  so.    But  I  was  not  going  to  lose  those 
intervening  days,  so  I  went  without  my  passport  to 
Mons  again  and  also  to  Waterloo.    At  the  latter 
place  I  climbed  that  Immense  artificial  mountain 
two  hundred  and  twenty-six  steps  up  the  side  of  it, 
cone-shaped  as  it  Is,  and  stood  beneath  that  great 
British  lion  of  bronze,  a  monument  against  the 
mania  for  world  empire  which  Napoleon  had  a 
hundred  years  ago.     There  were  three  German 
soldiers  up  there  so  I  did  not  tarry  long.    I  was 
afraid  they  would  ask  me  to  show  my  papers.    I 

196 


Caught  and  Tried  as  a  Spy  197 

was  not  supposed  to  move  without  them  and  was 
expected  to  stay  in  Brussels.  However,  I  had  not 
attempted  to  go  on  the  trains,  as  German  officers 
guard  every  depot  and  make  anyone  approaching 
the  station  show  their  papers.  Lacking  mine  I 
would  have  been  thrown  into  jail.  So  I  had  taken 
the  tram,  which  is  still  run  by  the  Belgian  peo- 
;ple,  and  fortunately  I  was  not  challenged.  Soon 
after  I  left  Waterloo  I  read  that  the  Germans 
had  torn  down  that  great  British  lion,  that  his- 
toric monument  a  century  old,  and  made  it  into 
bullets  to  shoot  back  at  the  British  who  put  it 
there.    It  was  a  strange  irony. 

Back  in  Brussels  I  again  applied  for  my  pass- 
ports at  the  end  of  the  five  days.  Instead  of  get- 
ting them  I  got  arrested ! 

During  the  searching  of  my  person  which  fol- 
lowed, and  which  was  conducted  with  character- 
istic German  thoroughness  by  Viellaur  and  his 
assistant,  a  bullet-headed  fellow  whose  name  I  do 
not  know,  a  peculiar  incident  occurred.  I  had  a 
certain  amount  of  material  such  as  personal  cards, 
souvenirs,  etc.,  as  any  man  is  apt  to  have  with 
him,  although  I  had  determined  not  to  have 
anything  about  me  which  might  in  any  way  offend 
the  Germans  or  give  the  slightest  ground  for  sus- 


198 ''Back  From  Heir 

piclon  that  I  was  collecting  information,  possibly 
for  the  enemy.  I  did  unconsciously  accumulate  a 
few  innocent  cards  which  people  handed  to  me  in 
this  place  and  In  that.  I  do  not  care  who  he  is, 
any  man  who  will  turn  his  pockets  Inside  out  will 
find  little  things  like  that  which  perhaps  he  did 
not  know  he  had  or  had  forgotten  all  about. 

Also  I  had  a  book  of  cigarette  papers  which  I 
had  brought  all  the  way  from  France.  Being  a 
preacher,  of  course  I  had  no  use  for  them  I  But 
an  enthusiastic  poilu  had  wanted  me  to  have  some 
souvenir  to  remember  him  by  and  not  having  any- 
thing else  had  presented  me  with  this.  Now  the 
papers  were  not  the  kind  which  are  stuck  Individu- 
ally with  mucilage  by  one  edge  Into  the  cover  and 
which  I  believe  are  called  Rlz-la-Croix,  but  the 
brand  called  ZIg-Zag,  which  are  creased  in  the  mid- 
dle and  folded  Into  each  other,  so  that  when  you 
pull  out  one,  It  pulls  the  edge  of  the  next  one  Into 
view,  and  so  on.  Now,  when  It  is  open.  If  you  press 
the  two  ends  of  the  cover  of  this  little  book  to^ 
gether  a  small  aperture  is  disclosed  In  the  back  of 
the  book,  a  kind  of  pocket,  a  thing  which  I  suppose 
not  one  man  out  of  a  thousand  who  uses  them  con- 
stantly ever  discovered.  There  is  no  reason  why  he  1 
should.    But  I  had  discovered  this  aperture  and  I      | 


Caught  and  Tried  as  a  Spy  199 

suppose  for  convenience  sake  and  possibly  also  for 
secrecy  had  stuck  the  check  for  my  uniform  in  that 
aperture  behind  the  cigarette  papers  when  I  re- 
ceived it  at  the  Great  Northern  Railway  station  in 
London.  The  check  was  a  good  sized  piece  of 
paper  on  which  the  parcel  man  had  written  a  de- 
scription of  my  package,  "  i  Khaki  Uniform/'  and 
which  I  had  folded  up  and  stuck  in  there  and 
promptly  forgotten.  When  Viellaur,  taking  me 
by  surprise,  suddenly  began  searching  me,  among 
other  things  he  took  this  book  of  cigarette  papers 
out  of  my  pocket.  He  also  found  that  list  of  mur- 
dered men  from  Andenne.  From  top  to  toe  he 
had  rifled  me,  and  all  my  possessions  were  lying 
on  his  desk.  Then,  for  some  reason,  he  went 
around  to  the  other  side  of  the  desk,  and  his  assis- 
tant, with  the  bullet-head,  began  carefully  examin- 
ing all  the  articles.  Certain  things  were  plainly 
innocent  and  uninteresting.  These  he  laid  in  one 
pile.  For  instance,  there  was  a  key,  a  plain  picture 
(post  card,  a  paper  napkin  from  Liege,  etc.  Cer- 
tain other  things  looked  interesting  to  him  and  he 
laid  these  on  another  pile.  On  the  interesting  pile 
he  laid  all  cards  which  besides  bearing  the  printed 
names  of  the  original  owners  had  other  names  and 
addresses  written  on  them  in  handwriting,  in  ink, 


200  ''Back  From  Heir' 

or  pencil.    On  the  uninteresting  pile  he  put  all  the 
other  things. 

Imagine  my  astonishment  when  Mr.  Bullet-head 
began  pulling  out  one  cigarette  paper  after  an- 
other from  that  book  and  finally  squeezed  the  cov- 
ers and  saw  the  paper  check  for  my  uniform  back 
in  the  little  pocket-like  aperture  I  He  took  it  out 
deliberately,  unfolded  It  and  looked  It  over,  and 
evidently  not  being  able  to  make  any  sense  out  of 
it  calmly  laid  it  on  the  uninteresting  pile !  I  heaved 
a  sigh  of  relief  for  my  heart  had  been  in  my 
mouth.  If  he  had  been  anything  but  a  German 
he  would  have  immediately  drawn  the  conclusion, 
fatal  for  me,  that  when  I  had  a  check  for  my  uni- 
form and  baggage  in  London,  I  must  have  used 
them  In  the  Allies'  service,  and  I  certainly  Intended 
to  go  back  and  get  them.  But  going  back  to  the 
enemy  was  just  what  they  did  not  want.  It  was 
lucky  that  Viellaur,  who  knew  English  perfectly, 
did  not  see  that  check.  You  may  be  sure  that  the 
first  chance  I  got  I  put  the  uninteresting  pile  back  in 
my  pocket  so  that  he  would  not  see  It  and  It  would 
not  damn  me.  But  the  thrilling  part  was  to  come. 
Not  feeling  satisfied  with  the  search,  Mr.  Bullet- 
head  decided  to  go  through  me  once  again  and 
made  no  bones  or  hesitation  about  promptly  put- 


Caught  and  Tried  as  a  Spy  201 

ting  his  decision  into  execution.  Alas  I  He  drew 
from  the  lining  of  my  coat  some  maps  of  Belgium, 
where  it  looked  as  though  I  had  deliberately  put 
them  in  an  attempt  to  hide  them.  "  Cursed  be  the 
Fates  anyway,"  I  exclaimed  to  myself.  My  coat 
lining  was  torn  just  at  the  top  of  my  inside  pocket 
and  when  I  had  innocently  put  the  maps  in  my 
pocket  I  had  unwittingly  put  them  inside  the  lining 
instead.  It  was  fearfully  damaging  evidence! 
Though  done  unconsciously  it  did  look  mighty  sus- 
picious and  when  he  began  examining  the  map  and 
saw  the  towns  which  I  had  marked  and  particularly 
the  ones  which  I  had  considered  important  places, 
he  concluded  I  was  a  spy. 

These  towns,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  which  had  the 
circles  of  stars  around  them  had  been  so  marked 
by  the  manufacturer  to  indicate  that  they  were 
fortified  towns,  but  I  did  not  know  it.  The  evi- 
dence pointed  to  the  conclusion  that  I  had  planned 
my  visits  to  the  fortifications  to  gather  military 
information  and  with  no  good  intent  towards 
Germany.  They  were  now  sure  I  was  a  spy  and, 
by  George  I  before  they  were  through  with  me  I 
just  about  began  to  wonder  if  I  wasn't  one  my- 
self. I  must  confess  at  this  distance  of  security 
and  of  time  It  did  look  most  mightily  suspicious. 


202  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

It  certainly  did,   and  I  was  in  for  the   "third 
degree.'* 

After  the  German  officers  had  searched  me,  and 
examined  the  papers,  they  threw  me  into  a  big 
gray  mihtary  automobile,  handcuffing  me  to  the 
machine,  and  hurried  me  down  to  my  hotel.  They 
searched  my  room  and  grip,  and  then  brought  me 
back  and  threw  me  Into  a  guard  room.  Five  sol- 
diers with  saw-edged  bayonets  were  set  to  watch 
me.  I  did  whatever  they  told  me  without  arguing. 
Upon  being  searched  the  several  cards  with  names 
and  addresses  which  Belgians  from  here  and  there 
had  given  me  in  the  hope  that  I  might  find  and 
cheer  some  dear  one  with  news  of  their  safety, 
were  found  upon  my  person.  I  was,  therefore, 
charged  with  being  a  spy  and  with  having  gone  to 
all  these  towns  for  the  purpose  of  getting  military 
information  for  the  enemy.  The  fact  that  they 
themselves  had  given  me  the  pass  made  no  differ- 
ence. Having  so  many  spies  in  every  country  them- 
selves made  the  Germans  suspicious  of  everyone 
else.  I  was  left  in  that  guard  room  and  told  that 
I  would  have  to  stay  until  after  lunch.  The  man 
must  have  eaten  a  heavy  meal  instead  of  a  lunch, 
for  he  did  not  come  back  for  me  until  five  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon.    I  was  given  no  lunch.    Then  the 


Caught  and  Tried  as  a  Spy  203 

officer  came  for  me,  and  I  was  questioned  until 
way  into  the  night. 

Next  day  I  was  put  through  the  "  third  degree." 
I  will  not  attempt  to  describe  the  grilling  which  I 
got,  but  take  my  word  it  was  a  fearful  ordeal. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

THREATENED  WITH  CRUCIFIXION 

WHEN  it  was  apparent  to  the  Germans  that 
they  were  able  to  get  no  satisfaction  from 
me  and  could  not  intimidate  me  into  admitting  that 
I  was  paid  by  the  British  Government,  they  tried 
more  effective  measures. 

I  am  frank  to  admit  that  during  the  whole  of 
the  proceeding  I  was  frightened.  I  will  go  even 
further  than  that  and  confess  I  was  scared  nearly 
to  death. 

Physically  I  was  intimidated  and  terrorized  and 
at  times  I  could  realize  and  even  see  that  my  knees 
were  shaking,  and  trembling  from  fright.  Yet 
strange  as  it  may  sound,  mentally  I  was  calm  and 
cool  and  kept  my  wits  about  me  perfectly.  And, 
my  friends,  you  can  say  what  you  please  about  the 
delusions  that  men  have  of  God's  presence,  and 
about  the  "Onlooking  Father"  being  merely  a 
dream-fancy  of  the  imagination,  but  you  can't  talk 
to  me  with  any  effect  and  replace  your  fatalism  for 
my  faith!     I'm  not  theorizing  now,  for  I  know! 

204 


Threatened  with  Crucifixion  205 

I  know  that  an  unseen  Friend  held  my  life  in  those 
awful  moments  and  overruled  the  designs  of  those 
inhuman  officials.  I  admit  that  I  was  scared  — 
scared  stiff  —  and  yet,  at  the  same  time,  never  did 
I  become  confused  mentally;  not  once  did  I  make 
a  single  conflicting  statement,  nor  in  any  way  give 
those  inquisitors  any  ground  whatever  for  confirm- 
ing their  suspicions.  If  I  had  made  a  single  break, 
or  even  become  excited,  or  protested  innocence,  or 
appealed  to  the  American  diplomats,  or  anything 
of  the  kind,  the  effect  would  have  been  very  bad 
for  me.  I  simply  let  those  hell-hounds  go  to  it  and 
do  their  worst,  and  as  God  is  in  heaven  I  believe 
to  this  day  that  my  cool  bearing  and  mental  com- 
posure had  a  tremendous  influence  with  them.  To 
speak  United  States,  "  it  got  their  goat."  If  you 
quail  before  a  German,  or  show  fear,  he's  got  you. 

And  when  as  a  last  resort  they  threatened  me 
with  the  most  awful  punishment  that  is  conceiv- 
able, I  still  stood  firm.  They  said  I  would  tell 
what  I  knew  or  they  would  know  the  reason  why. 

A  big,  burly  brute  then  took  me  out  into  a  big 
court-yard  and  showed  me  a  fence  which  had  a 
cross  painted  on  it.  As  we  stepped  out  the  back 
door,  four  soldiers  were  lined  up  out  there  with 
their  rifles  and  gleaming  bayonets.    Another  man 


2o6  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

had  a  hatchet  in  his  hand  and  a  pan  of  short 
spikes. 

The  detective  who  brought  me  out  then  told  me 
in  a  confidential  tone  that  if  I  did  not  make  a  clean 
sweep  of  the  whole  affair  and  tell  them  my  mission 
and  my  activities  in  that  country  they  were  going 
to  crucify  me  at  once.  I  believe  I  flushed  red, 
but  not  from  fright.  Anger  such  as  I  never  want 
to  return  to  my  poor  soul  seized  hold  of  me  as  I 
shouted  into  his  teeth,  "  You  can  crucify  me,  sir, 
but  you  can  only  make  yourself  a  criminal,  not 
me;  God  help  you  I " 

There  was  a  moment^s  silence.  Then,  "  Bring 
him  in,"  the  man  said  quietly  to  the  soldiers,  and 
I  was  taken  into  the  room  where  I  had  been  be- 
fore. I  now  felt  a  little  more  confidence,  for  I  felt 
that  I  had  cowed  them  down  and  thereafter  they 
did  not  seem  to  be  quite  so  cold  and  arrogant.  But 
I  was  put  into  the  hands  of  a  different  man.  They 
have  such  a  wonderful  system  of  dodging  respon- 
sibility and  of  passing  you  over  to  other  people. 
I  do  not  believe  that  cowardly  cur  dared  to  deal 
with  me  any  longer  and  I  never  saw  him  again.  I 
was  now  given  over  to  Laubenthal,  a  very  tall, 
business-like  fellow,  who  seemed  to  have  great  au- 
thority.   He  asked  me  many  more  questions,  writ- 


Threatened  with  Crucifixion  207 

ing  down  the  answers  and  seeming  to  put  In  his 
own  ideas,  and  then  he  told  me  to  sign  the  paper, 
which  was  several  pages  long.  He  said  it  was 
simply  my  own  story,  and  like  a  fool,  I  wrote  my 
name  to  it,  before  I  really  knew  what  it  was  I  was 
signing. 

Later,  when  I  thought  what  it  might  be,  I 
trembled.    It  might  have  been  my  death  warrant! 

Over  an  hour  passed,  not  much  was  said  for  a 
time.  I  was  in  the  same  room  where  Edith  Ca- 
vell  was  sentenced  and  out  of  which  she  was  taken 
through  the  back  door,  lined  up  against  a  blank 
wall  and  shot.  Presently,  at  an  ominous  moment, 
Laubenthal  stepped  over  to  the  wall  and  took 
down  a  white  cloth.  Holding  it  dangling  conspicu- 
ously by  the  corner  he  started  over  toward  my 
chair.  My  spine  went  ice.  I  thought  he  was  going 
to  tie  it  about  my  eyes  and  I  was  going  to  be  taken 
out  the  back  door  and  stood  up  against  the  blank 
wall.  All  my  former  sins  came  back.  I  faced  eter- 
nity. It  was  an  awful  moment,  but  quickly  passing 
from  the  sublime  to  the  ridiculous,  do  you  know  I 
never  realized  before  what  a  difference  there  is  in 
the  way  a  man  can  carry  a  rag  I  If  he  had  taken  it 
by  the  middle,  as  any  decent,  sane  man  would  do,  I 
might  have  thought  he  was  going  to  do  what  I  be- 


2o8  ''Back  From  Heir 

lieve  he  eventually  did,  wash  his  hands  and  use  it 
as  a  towel.  Holding  it  by  that  corner,  however, 
looked  too  suspicious  for  me.  It  was  an  innocent 
rag,  but  he  carried  it  in  a  funny  way,  and  without 
joking,  I  will  say  that  I  have  had  a  wholesome  re- 
spect for  a  rag  ever  since.  I  now  believe  he  was 
purposely  trying  to  scare  me.  Well,  if  he  was,  he 
certainly  succeeded.  Von  Bissing  then  came  in 
and  gave  me  a  ten  minute  curtain  lecture  which  was 
anything  but  pleasant.  After  a  time,  however, 
evidently  deciding  that  there  was  no  case  against 
me,  Laubenthal  went  to  the  telephone  and  had  a 
conversation  in  German.  I  heard  him  mention  my 
name,  but  I  did  not  know  whether  it  meant  release 
or  execution,  and  there  is  quite  a  difference.  Soon 
he  called  over  to  me  and  asked  me  if  I  was  ready 
to  leave  that  day.  Like  a  flash  I  said,  "Yes,  sir; 
yes,  sir.'*  I  had  been  ready  for  several  days.  He 
gave  me  a  permit,  saying,  "  Get  out  on  the  seven 
o'clock  train  tonight  and  don't  come  back."  Well, 
I've  been  in  the  habit  of  missing  trains  all  my  life, 
but  I  was  at  that  depot  at  six  o'clock.  I  wouldn't 
have  missed  that  train  for  all  the  iron  crosses  in 
the  Kaiser's  foundry.  I  got  out.  That  is,  I 
started  for  Holland. 

However,  I  was  pulled  off  the  train  by  a  husky 


Threatened  with  Crucifixion  209 

German  soldier  at  the  first  stop  this  side  of  the 
Holland  border,  about  two  miles  from  the  line, 
and  told  that  my  papers  were  not  in  order  and  I 
would  be  compelled  to  go  back  again  to  Brussels 
and  get  them  changed. 

Now,  Laubenthal  had  told  me  not  to  come 
back.  I  knew  he  meant  it,  too.  And  I  didn't  in- 
tend to  go  back  —  not  that  soon. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

MY   ESCAPE   AND  RETURN   TO  GOOD   OLD   FRANCE 

CONSEQUENTLY  while  I  started  back 
toward  Brussels,  that  night  under  cover  of 
'darkness  I  soon  wheeled  around  and  made  for  the 
Holland  border  —  alone  —  on  foot.  Part  of  the 
way  I  crept  on  all  fours.  Sometimes  I  was  com- 
pelled because  of  the  barbed-wire  entanglement, 
to  crawl  on  my  stomach.  I  went  through  mud  and 
water  and  clambered  over  stones.  Suddenly  I 
heard  two  German  sentries  apparently  arguing. 
Finally  one  let  loose  with  an  automatic  and  winged 
me  in  the  leg.  Although  I  twitched  I  never  whimp- 
ered and  kept  crawling  on.  At  last  the  two  miles 
were  traversed  and  I  found  myself  in  Holland. 
The  first  Dutchman  I  saw  (and  please  don't  mis- 
take a  Dutchman  for  a  German)  I  will  always  re- 
member. He  was  coming  toward  me  with  a  lan- 
tern, and  when  he  heard  me  he  called  out  to  know 
who  it  was.  I  answered  "An  American."  He 
then  came  smiling  toward  me  and  greeted  me  with 
a  hearty  handshake,  but  I  was  laughing  through 


Return  to  Good  Old  France  2111 

tears.  I  slapped  him  on  the  shoulder  and  ex- 
claimed, "Say,  old  top,  you're  the  first  human  be- 
ing I've  seen  for  many  weeks.  I  have  been  in  the 
hands  of  those  cursed  German  brutes  and  they 
made  life  fearful  for  me."  Of  course  he  didn't 
know  what  "  old  top  "  meant  but  I  didn't  care  any- 
way. He  bandaged  up  my  slight  wound  and  sent 
me  on  my  way.  I  was  now  mad  at  the  Huns,  and 
good  and  mad,  but  I  was  on  my  way  to  France.  I 
was  in  the  hands  of  sympathetic  friends  instead  of 
hardened  foes  and  I  was  happy  in  spite  of  my 
anger.  I  had  seen  Belgium  and  had  obtained  the 
evidence.  Whereas  before  I  had  jerked  off  my 
frock  coat  and  then  later  had  shed  my  vest  and 
gritted  my  teeth,  I  now  began  rolling  up  my  sleeves 
for  the  Allies.  Righteous  indignation  took  the 
upper  hand  of  pacifism.  When  I  went  back  to 
The  Hague  and  told  Dr.  Van  Dyke  my  story,  he 
was  astonished.  I  did  not  tell  it  all,  but  related 
enough  to  considerably  startle  him. 

I  had  slipped  by  the  consuls,  had  seen  Belgium, 
had  finally  escaped,  and  was  now  to  be  passed  on 
to  England.  I  had  no  further  difficulties,  and  in 
two  days  was  off  for  Tilbury  Docks.  When  I  got 
there  I  was  taken  aside  and  searched,  but  there 
was  none  of  that  terrorism  about  it  which  the 


212 ''Back  From  Heir 

Germans  had  used.  They  had  searched  me  thor- 
oughly thirteen  times. 

The  English  officers  asked  me  several  leading 
questions,  whether  I  had  seen  any  movement  of 
troops  and  what  was  the  food  condition,  etc.  As 
I  did  not  have  any  particular  military  informa- 
tion, I  was  soon  dismissed  and  got  my  pass  to 
France. 

I  now  went  down  to  the  railway  station  and 
got  my  uniform  where  I  had  checked  it.  When  I 
crossed  the  channel  and  went  into  France  I  had 
a  funny  experience.  I  went  up  to  the  railroad  ticket 
office  and  asked  for  a  special  rate  ticket  to  Paris 
(one-fourth  fare).  The  woman  asked,  "Have  you 
papers  to  show  that  you  are  military?"  I  said, 
"  No,  Madame,  I  have  none  with  me.'*  And  I  was 
having  an  awful  time  with  my  French.  Just  then 
young  Du  Boucher  stepped  up  to  the  window.  He 
was  an  old  friend  from  Paris,  and  he  looked  good 
to  me.  He  had  just  come  from  Etaples  and  spoke 
perfect  French  and  perfect  English.  Besides, 
he  was  a  good  fellow.  His  father  was  one  of 
the  main  surgeons  and  founder  of  our  hospital 
In  Neuilly.  But  with  all  that,  we  could  not  per- 
suade the  woman  to  give  me  a  military  ticket.  She 
said  to  come  back  later  and  see  the  officer.    Then 


Return  to  Good  Old  France  213 

Du  Boucher  said  he  would  stay  with  me  and  see 
me  through.  When  we  went  back  we  found  a 
grouchy  officer.  We  asked  him  for  a  military 
pass.  When  he  asked  for  our  papers  I  gave  him 
my  "  leave  of  absence."  He  looked  at  it  and  said, 
"  My  dear  sir,  you  are  a  deserter.  This  paper 
gives  you  ten  days'  leave  and  you  have  been  gone 
much  longer.  You  must  come  back  and  see  the 
colonel  at  eight  oVlock.'* 

I  told  him  my  train  would  go  to  Paris  at  seven- 
thirty.  He  didn't  hear  me  at  all.  He  said,  "  This 
is  very  serious,  and  you  must  see  the  colonel."  I 
then  told  him  I  wasn't  really  military,  don't  you 
know,  as  the  ambulance  service  was  in  reality  neu- 
tral, so  I  was  not  a  deserter.  "  Oh,  I  see,"  said 
he.  "You're  not  really  military,  and  why  then 
are  you  attempting  to  buy  a  military  ticket?  This 
is  still  more  serious.     You  must  see  the  colonel." 

I  was  scared  green. 

However,  when  we  came  back  to  see  the 
colonel  we  found  a  very  affable  human  man,  who 
said  he  couldn't  do  anything  for  us  about  a  special 
ticket  if  we  had  no  papers  to  show  that  we  were 
entitled  to  it,  but  that  we  could  go  to  the  window 
and  make  a  try  at  getting  it.  Again  we  did  so.  A 
different  agent  was  at  the  window,  and  we  went 


214  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

up  and  asked  him  for  such  a  ticket.     He  handed 
it  out  without  a  question. 

For  the  next  two  minutes  I  can  tell  you  we  did 
some  laughing.  We  were  compelled  to  stay  over 
night,  but  at  any  rate  I  did  not  have  to  face  court- 
martial  as  a  deserter,  and  in  the  morning  I  was  In 
Paris.  There  Is  nothing  like  having  a  fluent 
speaker  of  French  with  you  in  France,  especially 
when  you  are  In  trouble.  I  was  now  back  again  in 
the  good  old  country.  Dear  old  France,  how 
good  It  looked!  My  heart  had  been  changed  and 
I  now  immediately  went  into  action  again,  under 
the  colors  of  France.  The  fighting  had  been  very 
heavy  and  some  terrible  scenes  were  shortly  to  be 
witnessed.  Hundreds  of  men  were  now  literally 
ground  to  pieces  on  the  Western  front. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

NO  man's  land 

IN  THE  French  Army,  now,  I  had  a  different 
standing  than  at  first.  Our  unit  in  its  entirety 
was  taken  over  and  we  became  brancardiers,  or 
stretcher  bearers,  in  the  Second  Army  of  France. 
Accordingly  we  were  quartered  in  the  army  bar- 
racks. For  some  time  after  I  got  back  from  Bel- 
gium there  were  days  of  blood  and  thunder  as  a 
fearful  offensive  had  been  launched  by  the  German?. 
An  entire  change  of  heart  had  now  come  over 
me.  I  who  had  been  a  kind  of  peaceful  milk  and 
water  ecclesiastical  pacifist  to  now  stand  beside 
the  boys  with  the  guns  and  even  sleep  with  the 
poilus  whose  main  object  is  to  kill  Germans,  and 
approve  of  it,  was  unusual  to  say  the  least,  and  I 
thought  it  would  shock  some  of  the  deacons  back 
in  my  tranquil  church  at  home.  I  was  ready  to 
even  risk  a  guess  that  some  of  my  befrocked  cleri- 
cal friends  would  be  surprised.  But  I  figured  that 
when  universal  freedom  was  at  stake,  as  I  now 
clearly  saw  it  was,  I  could  not  afford  to  be  a  neu- 


2i6  "Back  From  Heir' 

tral  even  though  I  was  a  Presbyterian  preacher.  I 
could  not  resist  my  conscience. 

As  I  look  at  it  now,  I  wish  they  would  put  a  num- 
ber of  these  "conscientious  objectors"  into  the 
same  kind  of  service.  That  experience  was  the 
best  thing  that  ever  happened  to  me.  I  became 
enthusiastic  for  the  Allies  and  the  war,  and  dead 
against  the  Kaiser  and  his  gang. 

Soon  after  this  I  was  dispatched  to  a  certain 

place  near  L for  duty.  I  found  a  man  who 

had  just  been  out  on  a  wire-cutting  expedition.  As 
I  lifted  him  on  to  the  stretcher  he  said,  "Well,  I 
did  it  anyhow."  Then  with  some  effort  he  related 
the  following  experience  to  me: 

"  When  the  order  was  given  that  we  would  go 
*over  the  top'  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
and  take  the  Germans'  first  line  trench,  our  boys 
were  ready.  There  was  no  *try  to  take  It'  nor 
*  attack  it,'  but  *  we  will  go  over  the  top  and  take 
It'  There  was  a  note  of  finality  In  the  wording  of 
the  order,  which  we  well  understood.  Our  lieuten- 
ant then  came  down  to  our  fire  bay  and  asked  who 
would  volunteer  to  go  out  at  midnight  and  cut  the 
lanes.  He  was  looking  right  at  me,  and  said  '  Vin- 
cent, how  about  It?'  I  timidly  replied,  ^Fll  go, 
sir.'    There  was  no  way  out.    I  am  frank  to  con- 


No  Man's  Land  217 

fess  that  after  I  got  to  thinking  about  it,  my  knees 
began  to  shake.  The  more  I  thought,  the  worse 
they  got.  I  had  given  my  word,  though,  and  I 
wouldn't  be  a  quitter.  I  don't  think  there  is  any 
yellow  streak  in  me,  but  there  is  a  lot  of  human 
nature.  I  love  life.  I  got  to  thinking  of  my  past 
and  the  words  of  Shakespeare  ran  in  my  mind, 
*  Conscience  doth  make  cowards  of  us  all.'  I 
wasn't  scared,  I  was  paralyzed. 

"  I  realized  what  it  meant  that  I  had  promised 
to  do.  It  meant  that  I  was  to  climb  up  a  scaling 
ladder  over  our  parapet,  go  out  into  the  full  ex- 
posure of  the  enemy,  crawl  on  my  stomach  slowly 
—  slowly  again  —  an  inch  at  a  time — so  slowly 
that  if  a  German  saw  me,  he  would  not  know  I 
was  moving  at  all,  and  would  suppose  me  dead. 
I  must  cover  the  distance  between  our  parapet 
and  our  entanglement,  which  was  perhaps  a  dozen 
yards,  with  a  tripping  wire  in  between,  then  noise- 
lessly cut  a  lane  through  twenty  feet  of  knotted 
and  gnarled  barbed  wire,  fastening  It  back  so  that 
it  could  not  curl  up  and  entangle  our  men  as  they 
rushed  through.  Then  I  must  creep  and  crawl  on 
my  stomach,  hugging  the  ground  until  I  got  back 
and  slid  into  our  trench.  If  I  were  seen,  it  was 
all  day  with  me.     I'd  go  to  Blighty — for  good. 


2i8  ''Back  From  Heir 

"Well,  twelve  o'clock  came  around — all  too 
soon.  I  went.  When  I  had  cut  my  first  wire,  a 
German  star  shell  fell,  lighting  up  the  barbed- 
wire  entanglement  for  rods  around.  Luckily  for 
me  it  fell  short  of  the  parallel  in  which  I  was,  to 
the  trenches.  If  it  had  fallen  back  of  me,  it 
would  have  thrown  my  body  into  bold  relief." 

For  the  readers'  benefit  be  it  said  that  a  star 
shell  is  something  like  a  sky  rocket  or  a  roman 
candle.  It  is  sent  up  into  the  air  and  falls  to  the 
ground,  lighting  up  everything  around  it.  The 
purpose  of  it  is  to  betray  any  action  of  the  enemy 
in  No  Man's  Land.  Obviously,  if  it  falls  short, 
it  blinds  the  sender  to  what  is  going  on  beyond  it, 
just  as  a  light  in  the  window  of  a  house  will  not 
throw  the  objects  in  the  room  into  view  from  the 
outside,  especially  if  the  spectator  is  some  distance 
away.  But  objects  can  be  plainly  seen  in  the 
room  by  a  person  across  the  street,  if  the  light 
is  on  the  far  side  of  the  room.  This  is  par- 
ticularly true  if  the  object  should  move.  So  with 
the  star  shell.  But  it  must  frighten  one  at  best 
to  be  lying  on  his  stomach  and  have  the  whole 
world  illuminated  about  him  even  if  he  is  behind 
the  light. 

In  slower  and  lower  tones  the  poilu  continued: 


No  Man's  Land  219 

*'  I  had  just  cut  my  last  wire  and  folded  It  back 
on  the  post — I  don't  think  thirty  seconds  had 
passed  —  when  a  star  shell  came  down  between 
me  and  my  own  trench  and  glimmered  away  as 
if  it  never  would  go  out.  It  may  have  burned  for 
thirty  seconds,  but  that  thirty  seconds  seemed  like 
thirty  years  to  me. 

"  I  was  less  than  forty  yards  from  the  German 
trenches,  and  I  believe  within  thirty  yards  of  their 
barbed  wire.  As  that  star  shell  came  down,  I  had 
my  hand  upon  a  post  about  a  foot  from  the 
ground.  And  as  It  was,  I  was  really  grasping  the 
barbed  wire,  wrapped  around  the  post,  and  thus 
assisting  myself  to  crawl  back  to  our  trenches. 
Although  the  wire  was  cutting  my  fingers  fiercely, 
I  dared  not  let  loose  of  that  post,  for  fear  the  Ger- 
mans would  detect  the  motion  and  let  me  have  it 
hot  and  heavy.  Just  before  the  star  shell  burned 
out,  I  distinctly  heard  some  German  voices.  One 
man  said,  *  There,  look  there  P  Then  the  star 
shell  went  out.  Expecting  another  immediately, 
I  dared  not  move  or  withdraw  my  hand.  It  came. 
Again  I  could  hear  those  Germans  talking,  this 
time  arguing  about  me.  Instead  of  shooting  me, 
and  when  that  star  shell  went  out,  I  pulled  my- 
self up  by  the  aid  of  that  post  and  ran  as  I  never 


220  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

ran  in  my  life  before.  I  believe  I  broke  the 
world's  record. 

"And  then,  at  last,  they  began  to  shoot,  and  just 
as  I  fell  into  our  trenches,  one  of  them  caught  me 
here.'*  His  breathing  was  labored  as  he  placed 
his  hand  on  his  side. 

"But  somehow,  when  a  fellow  is  out  there  — 
alone  —  facing  death  in  the  solitude,  it  seems  so 
much  worse  than  it  is  two  hours  later,  when  the 
boys  go  *  over  the  top,*  dozens  of  them  together, 
with  bayonets  gleaming  and  with  yelling  and 
shooting  and  barrage  fire.  It  doesn't  seem  nearly 
so  bad  in  a  crowd.  I  don't  mean  that  the  men  like 
it.  No  man  ever  likes  to  go  *  over  the  top,'  but 
there  is  a  hypnotism  when  the  crowd  goes  with  you. 
It  is  what  the  professors  call  mob  psychology.  It's 
the  thing  that  will  make  a  man  jump  into  a  scrim- 
mage on  the  football  field  eagerly,  knowing  that  he 
will  get  hurt,  without  thinking  anything  about  it. 

But  I  went  alone.  I'm  all  right  but  I  feel " 

Here  his  breath  came  hard. 

"  The  charge  was  set  for  three  o'clock.  A  fear- 
ful bombardment  was  opened  up.  The  barrage 
fire  was  terrific.  Word  was  finally  passed  along 
from  mouth  to  mouth,  *ten  minutes  till  we  go 
over  the  top!'     All  the  while  the  bombardment 


No  Mans  Land  221 

had  been  going  on  more  fiercely  and  the  firing 
was  let  loose,  the  like  of  which  was  never  seen 
before. 

"At  last  It  was  five  minutes  of  three.  The 
*  death  ladders'  were  put  in  place,  so  the  men 
could  scale  the  parapet,  and  at  exactly  three  o'clock 
the  whistles  blew  a  mighty  blast.  Up  the  boys 
went  like  monkeys  over  a  garden  wall.  The  cur- 
tain fire  was  thrust  forward.  Through  the  lanes 
they  went.  Across  No  Man's  Land  they  rushed, 
and  men  were  falling  all  about.  At  this  moment 
some  of  the  Germans  made  a  kind  of  counter- 
charge, and  a  few  got  very  near  our  trenches.  One 
big  German  was  almost  falling  into  our  trench  on 
top  of  me,  when  I  heard  him  yell  at  me.  I  could 
not  tell  what  he  said,  but  as  his  mouth  opened  in 
yelling,  amazement  and  fear  gripped  me,  for,  like 
the  shiny  tongue  of  a  snake,  there  stuck  out  of  his 
mouth  a  long,  glistening  object.  I  thought  he  was 
making  faces  at  me.  But  only  a  second  elapsed, 
until  his  yell  merged  into  a  fiendish  shriek  and  he 
pitched  toward  me.  One  of  our  men  had  jammed 
his  bayonet  through  the  big  Boche  from  behind, 
and  it  had  come  out  of  his  mouth.  It  was  the 
last  of  him.  I  know  our  boys  got  there.  But 
it  sure  Is  hell.     But  —  it — is  glorious  I"     I  then 


222  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

realized  that  he  was  weakening  and  when  I 
asked  him  if  he  was  badly  hurt  he  answered,  "  No 
— not  bad — I  reckon  —  only  —  'goin'  West.'" 
As  the  poor  fellow  spoke  these  last  words  his 
breath  was  coming  hard.  Life  was  slowly  ebbing 
out  and  as  I  stood  with  his  hand  clasped  in  mine  he 
passed  over  the  Great  Divide.  In  solemn  reflec- 
tion I  stood  beside  him  for  a  moment.  Yes,  It  was 
glorious,  In  a  way,  yet  for  my  part  it  sickened  me. 
I  had  had  enough.  I  was  fed  up  with  the  war  and 
I  longed  for  rest. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

JEAN    AND    "fRENCHIE" 

THAT  rest  was  to  come  ere  long  —  but  not 
Immediately.  I  had  seen  the  tragedy  and 
horror  of  modern  warfare  but  I  was  still  to  un- 
dergo another  heart-tearing  ordeal.  The  boys 
of  a  certain  company  were  as  handsome  a  lot  as 
ever  donned  a  uniform.  But  some  of  the  best  of 
them  were  marked  men.  Two  of  these  fellows 
whom  I  had  come  to  consider  as  pals,  got  theirs 
a  few  days  later.  The  name  of  one  was  Jean,  and 
I  couldn't  pronounce  the  other,  so  I  used  to  call 
him  "  Frenchle."  They  were  both  fine,  strapping 
lads,  larger  than  the  average  Frenchman  and  had 
the  pep  of  young  Americans.  Jean  was  twenty- 
one  and  *'  Frenchie  "  I  suppose  about  twenty-five. 
We  used  to  have  great  times  together  trying  to 
understand  each  other  and  laughing  over  my  mis- 
takes in  speaking  French.  Some  of  them  were 
worth  laughing  at,  too. 

On  occasions  I  would  sit  and  swap  yarns  with 
them  or  would  yield  to  their  requests  to  tell  them 

aas 


224  ''Back  From  Heir' 

all  about  the  United  States.  We  struck  up  an  in- 
timacy which  was  unusual,  and  it  got  so  that  we 
sought  each  other's  company  whenever  possible. 
The  boys  used  to  ask  me  all  kinds  of  questions 
about  New  York  and  wanted  to  know  how  far  out 
Pike's  Peak  was  from  the  metropolis.  I  had  to 
laugh  at  their  conception  of  American  geography 
as  much  as  they  did  at  my  conception  of  their  lan- 
guage. Many  a  pleasant  hour  we  enjoyed  to- 
gether. 

But  alas  I  One  Sunday  afternoon  a  gas  alarm 
was  suddenly  sounded.  All  the  men  along  the 
trench  began  excitedly  fumbling  for  their  gas  masks 
and  shouting  to  one  another.  That  was  the  very 
worst  thing  that  they  could  do.  Remaining  cool 
and  keeping  your  mouth  shut  is  the  only  possible 
method  of  combating  this  awful  weapon.  You 
must  lose  no  time  in  shaking  off  your  metal  trench 
helmet  and  getting  the  gas  mask  on  and  buttoned 
tightly  around  your  neck,  but  the  way  to  save 
time  is  to  go  about  it  cooly.  Now  *'  Frenchie  " 
had  become  excited  and  couldn't  find  his  mask. 
It  wasn't  in  his  bag  provided  for  the  purpose.  He 
had  lost  it.  In  his  excitement,  instead  of  wetting 
his  handkerchief  and  tying  it  over  his  nose  as  a 
temporary  substitute,  he  began  yelling  at  the  other 


Jean  and  *' Frenchie^'  225 

boys,  asking  them  if  they  had  seen  It  or  If  they 
had  an  extra  one.  In  doing  this  he  had  taken  in 
several  breaths  of  the  deadly  fumes  and  was 
quickly  overcome.  He  was  carried  back  Into  the 
receiving  station  and  there  he  lay  In  agony.  When 
I  got  there  two  men  were  bending  over  him  as  he 
lay  upon  the  stretcher  and  with  a  fan  and  oxygen 
tube,  they  were  trying  to  assist  him  In  getting 
air  Into  his  lungs.  I  went  over  and  spoke  to  him, 
but  his  eyes  were  closed  and  he  could  not  answer. 
For  ten  or  fifteen  minutes  we  worked  with  him, 
but  It  seemed  like  eternity.  As  his  eyelids  twitched, 
his  throat  contracted,  and  his  nostrils  distended  In 
the  awful  effort  to  get  air;  I  thought  I  should  faint 
as  I  was  forced  to  look  upon  his  Indescribable  suf- 
fering. When  once  or  twice  I  asked  him  some- 
thing the  agonizing  efforts  which  he  made  to  speak 
to  me  were  terrible  to  behold.  I  would  rather  die 
myself  than  ever  have  to  look  on  such  a  sight 
again.  Death  Isn't  hard  to  see  and  the  sight  of  it 
becomes  commonplace  on  the  battle  line.  But  the 
spectacle  of  a  fellow-human  going  through  the 
slow  agonies  of  the  damned,  in  his  vain  attempts 
to  get  air,  is  one  which  no  mortal  ought  ever  to  be 
called  upon  to  undergo. 

Of  course  I  cannot  know  how  much  actual  pain 


226  ''Back  From  Heir' 

he  felt,  as  it  is  possible  that  the  gas  deadened  his 
nerves  and  yet  caused  him  to  twitch  in  this  awful 
manner;  but  if  poor  "Frenchie'*  suffered  any 
worse  than  I  did  in  those  few  minutes,  he  is  bet- 
ter off  dead  than  living.  Finally  he  turned  a  blu- 
ish green  color  and  at  last  gave  one  great  gulp 
and  died.  It  was  with  heavy  hearts  that  we  car- 
ried him  out  and  then  I  went  back  to  the  depot. 
The  Boches  had  made  a  terrific  charge  on  about 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  front,  but  were  repulsed  with 
very  heavy  losses.  Naturally  our  brave  boys 
were  exulting  over  the  fact  that  they  had  stood 
their  ground  and  made  the  Germans  quickly  re- 
treat, leaving  numbers  of  their  men  upon  the  field. 
I  was  not  very  jubilant,  however,  because  the 
thought  of  poor  *'  Frenchie "  was  still  in  my 
mind.  Then  another  shock  came  to  me.  I  had 
gone  back  to  the  depot  only  to  find  my  other 
comrade,  Jean,  lying  on  a  piece  of  canvas  on  the 
floor  with  a  bandage  around  his  head.  His  face 
was  turned  away  from  me  and  a  man  was  ad- 
ministering temporary  treatment.  I  asked  him 
what  was  the  matter,  and  upon  hearing  my  voice 
Jean  answered  for  himself.  "Well,  I  guess  I  got 
mine  that  time,  but  you  can  bet  I  gave  a  good  ac- 
count of  myself  first.    It  is  all  for  La  Belle  France, 


Jean  and '' Frenchie^'  227 

anyway,  and  I  am  damn  glad  It  happened  I  "  He 
became  weak  then,  and  didn't  speak  any  more.  As 
soon  as  I  got  the  chance,  I  asked  the  soldier  stand- 
ing by  more  particularly  about  the  nature  of  the 
wound  and  he  said  in  a  low  and  faltering  voice : 
*'  Jean  will  recover  all  right,  for  his  wound  is  not 
fatal  at  all,  but,"  and  he  broke  down  as  he  con- 
tinued, "he'll  never  see  light  again.  The  poor 
fellow  has  both  eyes  shot  out.'* 

An  then  he  told  me  what  a  wonderful  fight  Jean 
had  put  up  first,  accounting  for  four  Germans  in 
hand-to-hand  fighting.  Poor  Jean  I  He  will 
grope  his  way  through  life!  But  the  thing  that 
impressed  me  most  was  his  inner  feeling,  "  It's  all 
for  La  Belle  France,  and  I'm  damn  glad  It  hap- 
pened!" 

You  can't  whip  a  nation  like  that. 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE   PSYCHOLOGY   OF   FRANCE 

I  HAD  a  sort  of  habit,  when  I  had  time  off  from 
the  work,  or  was  "on  my  own,"  of  some- 
times going  to  the  railroad  stations  of  the  dif- 
ferent towns  and  more  especially  those  of  Paris. 
A  railroad  station  is  an  interesting  place  at  any 
time.  It  is  an  educational  institution,  for  there 
you  find  all  classes  of  humanity  coming  and  go- 
ing, just  as  they  are.  It  is  where  the  ebb  and  flow 
of  the  human  tide  of  life  is. 

But  I  think  in  this  time  of  war,  especially,  there 
is  no  place  which  so  well  shows  up  the  psychology 
of  the  people  as  the  railroad  depot.  Often  have  I 
stood  in  those  large  Paris  stations  and  watched 
the  people  come  and  watched  them  go.  The  Gare 
du  Nord,  the  Gare  du  Lyons,  and  the  Gare  la 
Chapelle  are  full  of  sentiment  and  pathos. 

Once  at  the  last  named  station  I  was  standing 
in  the  background  in  the  shadow  of  a  pillar,  where 
I  was  unobtrusive  and  unnoticed,  and  watched  the 
anxious  people.     Some  of  them  were  looking  for 

228 


The  Psychology  of  France  229 

their  loved  ones  back  on  leave,  and  some  of  them 
had  come  to  see  their  loved  ones  leave,  perhaps 
forever  I 

I  saw  a  young  wife  approach  the  gate  with  her 
husband.  The  brave  little  woman  had  escorted 
her  mart  to  the  station  as  he  was  leaving  for 
the  trenches,  to  take  his  place  there  in  the  mud  and 
blood.  And  yet,  as  she  stood  there  and  talked  to 
him  outside  the  gates,  she  was  exceptionally  merry 
and  vivacious.  Then  just  as  he  went  through  the 
gates  to  board  the  train,  she  kissed  him  and  waved 
him  a  cheery  au  revoir  and  stood  smilingly,  wav- 
ing as  he  went  out  of  sight. 

And  then  —  I  saw  that  brave  French  woman 
turn  around,  and,  as  she  walked  away  or  almost 
stumbled  away,  become  shaken  with  a  paroxysm 
of  sobs  and  grief,  as  though  the  heart  were 
wrenched  out  of  her  breast. 

How  she  did  weep  I 

But  she  would  not  let  her  husband  see  it  for 
anything  in  the  world,  for  she  felt  she  must  keep 
him  up  so  that  he  could  fight  the  battle.  That  was 
her  bit  for  La  Belle  France.  And  I  have  seen 
that  same  thing  repeated  very  many  times. 

I  have  often  watched  strong  men  come  into  the 
depots  with  their  brothers  who  were  going  to  the 


230  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

trenches.  And  as  they  talked  with  those  dear  ones 
who  were  going  out  to  meet  the  foe,  they  would  be 
happy  and  buoyant  in  their  manner,  and  as  they 
separated,  they  would  kiss  each  other  like  young 
lovers,  with  prolonged  and  passionate  kisses,  for 
both  realized  that  they  might  never  meet  again. 
And  the  cheery  au  revoir  which  they  waved  to 
each  other  meant  "Till  we  meet  again,"  probably 
"over  West."  But  they  did  not  then  show  a 
trace  of  sadness.  The  soldier  would  board  his 
train  and  the  man  who  was  left  behind  would 
turn  away,  convulsed  with  weeping;  but  he 
wouldn't  let  his  brother  see  it.  It  was  all  for  La 
Belle  France. 

The  soul  of  the  French  Is  a  wonderful  thing. 
They  have  a  calm  confidence  that  finally  the  in- 
vader will  be  vanquished,  and  that  confidence 
goes  a  long  way  toward  the  goal.  Not  so  many 
years  since,  the  French  were  looked  upon  by  many 
as  being  an  enervated,  effeminate  people.  I  sup- 
pose the  tourists  who  visited  Paris  had  taken  their 
impressions  from  a  few  of  the  men  and  women 
whom  they  had  observed  in  the  cafes  and  public 
places.  At  any  rate,  a  great  many  Americans 
thought  that  as  a  nation  she  was  degenerating  and 
decaying,  but  France  has  proven  to  the  world  that 


The  Psychology  of  France  231 

such  an  impression  is  not  true,  and  no  one  has 
learned  this  lesson  better  than  the  German.  To- 
day I  believe  Germany  respects  France  more 
highly  than  any  other  of  her  enemies.  This  great 
Republic  has  conducted  through  these  years  such 
a  remarkable  war,  and  all  the  while  kept  up  such 
a  magnificent  spirit  that  she  has  placed  herself  in 
the  very  front  rank  of  the  world's  great  powers. 
The  secret  of  it  all  is  the  wonderful  psychological 
attitude  of  the  French  people  who  go  to  make 
up  the  country,  and  if  America  can  demonstrate 
a  spirit  which  parallels  it  in  the  trying  days  to 
come,  it  will  bode  well  for  the  outcome  of  the  war. 
I  am  glad  I  went.  My  part,  though  humble, 
in  this  great  struggle  for  human  freedom,  has 
done  worlds  for  me,  and  I  shall  always  rejoice 
that  I  had  that  profound  experience.  Physically, 
I  overdid  things,  yet  I  wanted  to  do  more.  Every- 
body does.  I  often  took  foolish  chances  as  I  now 
see,  but  I  am  not  sorry  for  it.  I  got  little  sleep 
and  insufficient  food,  but  I  was  happy  in  my  work. 
Not  infrequently  as  I  worked  I  had  realized  the 
danger,  but  I  didn't  seem  to  care.  Forgetting 
my  own  best  interests,  I  guess  I  often  did  more 
than  I  should  have  done.  But  these  things  can- 
not last  forever.     The  body  wearies,  the  brain 


232  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

tires,  the  nerves  fatigue,  there  comes  about  a 
physical  condition  when  the  members  of  the  body 
simply  refuse  to  obey  orders.  Such  a  condition  I 
suppose  had  come  upon  me.  For  some  time  I  had 
felt  it  coming,  but  I  still  did  not  let  up,  though  I 
was  working  like  a  man  in  a  dream. 

At  last,  however,  my  nerves  completely  gave 
way.  I  saw  that  I  must  give  up  the  work  entirely 
and  with  great  regret  was  forced  to  do  so.  I  was 
given  my  release  and  a  military  ticket,  but  I  was 
loath  to  leave  the  country  which  had  opened  my 
eyes  to  the  deeper  values  of  life.  The  people  that 
I  had  met  and  the  atmosphere  in  which  I  had 
labored  had  brought  a  new  meaning  to  the  words 
"Life"  and  "Liberty,"  and  I  felt  I  was  better 
fitted  for  my  duty  toward  humanity.  I  had  gained 
a  something  over  there  which  I  never  got  before 
in  all  the  years  of  my  academic  education  and  a 
strange  emotion  tugged  at  my  heart  at  the  thought 
of  leaving  France.  I  vowed  that  if  possibility  pre- 
sented itself  I  would  return  again  to  help  the 
poilus. 


o 


CHAPTER  XLI 

THE  CONTAGIOUS  SPIRIT  OF  SACRIFICE 

UT  there  on  the  Western  front  a  marvelous 
spirit  seems  to  have  possession  of  the  peo- 
ple. I  doubt  if  the  world  ever  saw  such  a  close 
and  intimate  communion  of  millions  upon  millions 
of  men  banded  together  for  one  mighty  purpose, 
namely,  the  preservation  of  Liberty  on  the  earth. 
Men  endure  suffering  and  women  undergo  hard- 
ships such  as  they  never  dreamed  to  be  possible. 
In  every  age  Liberty  has  had  its  champions  and 
morality  its  martyrs,  but  there  never  was  a  time 
when  such  hosts  of  crusaders  from  every  corner 
of  the  world  with  one  accord  marched  forth  to 
sacrifice  for  a  common  cause.  Men  seem  to  vie 
with  one  another  as  to  who  can  do  the  most.  Hard- 
ship IS  accepted  with  a  jest.  Women  with  sleepless 
eyes  watch  over  sufferers  on  beds  of  pain,  never 
thinking  of  self  but  rather  losing  themselves  in 
the  great  purpose  for  which  it  is  all  endured.  They 
seem  to  have  a  vision  which  is  almost  superhuman. 
Most  of  us  can  see  only  today  and  its  security  and 

233 


234  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

happiness;  but  these  messengers  are  looking  to  the 
welfare  of  their  children's  children  to  the  third  and 
fourth  generation.  To  them  the  general  good  of 
Humanity  looms  up  and  eclipses  all  considerations 
of  personal  comfort  or  convenience.  And  so  they 
keep  on  toiling  and  enduring  through  the  months. 

At  one  time  when  I  was  in  a  hospital  I  made  my 
way  down  to  a  room  where  the  ladies  were  serving 
four  o'clock  tea.  I  arrived  just  a  few  moments  too 
late,  and  much  to  my  chagrin  the  ladies  were  clear- 
ing away  the  dishes.  I  saw  a  woman  carrying  a 
plate  full  of  cakes  —  all  that  were  left — out  of 
the  room  and  up  to  the  wounded  soldiers  above. 
I  stopped  her,  jokingly,  saying,  *'  I'm  going  to  steal 
one  of  those  cakes.  I  came  late."  She  graciously 
held  the  plate  out  to  me  while  I  helped  myself, 
saying  as  she  did  so,  "You  boys  deserve  them  if 
anybody  does.    We  can't  do  enough  for  you." 

A  moment  later  she  stepped  out,  and  I  said  to 
the  lady  who  handed  me  a  cup  of  tea,  **  I  almost 
lost  my  cake  today  as  I  was  late.  What  is  the 
woman's  name  who  took  the  plate  upstairs  ?  "  Her 
answer  stunned  me.  "That's  Mrs.  Vanderbilt," 
she  said  modestly. 

And  then  I  began  to  think.  What  was  Mrs. 
Vanderbilt  doing  over  there  working  In  a  hospital? 


Contagious  Spirit  of  Sacrifice         235 

What  are  all  the  Influential  and  wealthy  people 
doing  now,  to  lighten  the  burden  and  help  the 
cause?  There  Is  certainly  a  sympathy  between 
the  high  and  low  which  was  never  known  before 
anywhere  In  the  world. 

This  day  as  I  sat  there,  I  suppose  with  a  rather 
serious  expression  on  my  face,  a  nurse  put  in  her 
appearance.  "Why,  my  friend,"  she  said,  "what 
makes  you  look  so  sober?"  "Oh,  nothing,"  I 
said,  and  tried  to  smile.  "Yes,  but  there  Is  and 
you  must  tell  me,"  she  persisted.  "  I  was  think- 
ing about  America's  pacifists,"  I  answered.  "  I 
used  to  be  one  myself,  but  I  now  see  that  they  are 
injuring  the  cause  that  these  brave  fellows  are  dy- 
ing for,  and  they  ought  to  be  severely  punished. 
My  own  effectiveness  Is  hampered  and  has  become 
insignificant  because  of  my  former  attitude,  but 
from  now  on  I  am  going  to  stand  up  for  the  fight- 
ing soldier  every  time." 

"Your  Idea  is  right,"  answered  the  nurse. 
"The  pacifists  back  in  the  States  who  have  been 
objecting  to  the  government's  policy  and  who 
have  dodged  and  evaded  their  duty,  ought  to  be 
put  In  jail.  But,"  and  she  emphasized  her  state- 
ment with  her  Index  finger,  "  you  are  a  bit  hard  on 
yourself,  I  think,  and  your  work  Is  not  Inslgnifi- 


236  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

cant.  You  have  tried  to  do  your  little  bit  here  to 
atone  for  having  been  a  pacifist  and  now  It  Is 
possible  that  you  may  do  much  in  the  States  by 
your  voice  and  pen  to  rouse  the  people  of  America 
to  their  patriotic  duty.  You  may  teach  them  many 
lessons." 

"I  myself  have  learned  one  great  lesson  over 
here,"  I  said.  "  I  have  learned  that  In  order  to 
find  happiness  one  must  lose  himself.  He  must 
give  up  himself  In  a  worthy  cause." 

"I  understand,"  replied  the  nurse.  "I  can 
see  that  you  have  become  imbued  with  the  spirit 
of  sacrifice  which  seems  contagious  here  in  this 
land.    Everybody  has  It." 

*' Well,  I  don't  know  about  that,"  I  said,  "but 
whatever  you  may  say,  I  do  know  this:  I  know 
that  those  poor  fellows  out  there  in  the  mud  have 
given  all  they've  got  to  make  the  world  safe  from 
Germany,  and  we  ought  to  do  the  same.  The  one 
who  Is  a  pacifist  now,  is  a  slacker,  a  traitor,  and  in 
reality,  a  murderer.  He  is  prolonging  the  war 
and  thus  sacrificing  additional  lives.  I  know  that 
the  Man  who  gave  His  life  on  the  cruel  cross,  two 
thousand  years  ago,  gave  it  for  liberty,  the  same 
as  these  soldiers  are  doing  today,  and  when  I  read 
in  the  American  papers  now  and  then  of  some  of 


Contagious  Spirit  of  Sacrifice         237 

the  obstructionists  in  our  own  country,  who  are 
railing  at  the  President  and  scoffing  at  what  is 
being  done  to  prepare  our  army,  I  can't  express 
myself.'' 

*'  You  must  be  patient  though,"  she  said,  "for 
such  men  will  come  to  their  deserts,  and  I  am 
so  glad  that  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  know- 
ing you,  and  as  you  take  your  departure,  I  want 
you  to  know  that  I  shall  always  remember  you  in 
the  first  capacity  in  which  I  knew  you,  as  an  am- 
bulance worker,  and  because  of  your  activity  in 
saving  lives  —  for  that  above  all  is  the  one  thing 
I  am  interested  In." 


CHAPTER  XLII 

THE  HERITAGE  OF  HATE 

THE  blackest  aspect  of  the  sin  which  Ger- 
many has  committed  In  this  war  Is  not 
to  be  found  in  the  ruined  churches  and  the  dev- 
astated homes.  The  vandalistic  crime  which 
asserted  itself  In  destroying  school-houses  and 
libraries  and  works  of  art,  in  desolating  the  fields 
and  laying  low  the  country,  sinks  into  the  back- 
ground when  compared  with  the  wickedness  of 
sowing  that  heritage  of  hate  In  untold  millions  of 
hearts  —  a  hate  which  will  endure  and  bear  fruit 
against  her  long  after  the  present  conflict  has 
passed  into  history. 

Ernest  Lissauer,  in  his  well-known  "hymn" 
expressed  the  venom  and  hatred  of  Germany  for 
those  of  other  nations  who  do  not  concede  her  the 
right  of  world  conquest,  and  was  decorated  for  it 
by  the  Emperor.  And  although  an  attempt  was 
made  to  suppress  the  hymn  after  the  Germans 
realized  its  detriment  to  themselves  the  seed  had 
been  sown  far  and  wide  and  could  not  be  recalled. 

238 


The  Heritage  of  Hate  239 

Germany  had  spread  race  hatred  in  the  world,  and 
that  is  the  greatest  barrier  there  is  to  human 
progress. 

Universal  brotherhood  for  which  Jesus  lived  and 
died,  and  for  which  the  noblest  men  have  always 
lived,  has  been  turned  back  a  thousand  yedrs  by 
Germany,  and  that  is  her  great  crime.  That  is  the 
accusation  for  which  her  military  leaders  will  have 
to  answer  before  the  bar  of  God  on  the  solemn 
Judgment  Day.  She  sowed  to  the  wind  and  she 
reaps  the  whirlwind.  Not  only  has  she  stirred  up 
bitterness  and  hate  in  the  breasts  of  her  own  peo- 
ple, but  by  her  foul  deeds,  the  offspring  of  that 
hatred,  she  has  planted  a  hate  in  the  very  beings 
and  natures  of  the  people  of  her  enemy  countries 
which  almost  equals  it.  In  the  earlier  days  of  the 
war  it  was  occasionally  said  that  there  was  no 
hatred  between  the  opposing  soldiers  and  that  the 
people  of  the  conquered  territories  often  frater- 
nized with  the  German  invaders.  It  was  a  lie.  Al- 
though the  men  of  France  and  Belgium  were  very 
scarce  in  the  towns  and  cities,  because  most  of  them 
had  gone  to  the  trenches,  and  although  the  women 
were  perhaps  lonesome  for  companionship,  yet 
woe  be  to  that  insulting  German  soldier  who  at- 
tempted to  converse  or  walk  with  a  French  girl  on 


240  ''£iack  From  Hell'' 

the  street,  for  he  would  receive  such  a  withering 
look  and  answer  as  would  make  the  blood  run  cold 
in  any  man  with  an  ounce  of  self-respect.  The  girls 
of  the  conquered  countries  today  would  rather 
play  with  serpents  than  hold  any  kind  of  conversa- 
tion or  have  any  social  intercourse  with  the  haughty 
invaders. 

In  the  beginning  they  tried  to  force  their  ob- 
noxious attentions  on  the  women;  but  they  soon 
learned  better  and  in  the  regions  which  they  arro- 
gantly possess  today  the  German  soldiers  are  the 
most  shunned  and  lonely  people  that  ever  lived. 
Little  babes  just  learning  to  talk  are  schooled  to 
hate  the  Germans.  Many  a  time  I  have  seen 
young  mothers  with  painstaking  care  drilling  the 
little  ones  to  lisp  vengeance  upon  their  enemy.  In- 
stead of  the  affectionate  terms  of  "papa"  and 
"mamma''  which  all  nationalities  first  teach  the 
infant  the  outraged  inhabitants  pronounce  the 
words  Les  Allemands  Boche,  and  The  Kaiser 
Kaput,  "The  Germans  are  contemptible"  and 
"  Cut  the  head  off  the  Kaiser." 

No  man  need  tell  me  that  this  universal  feeling 
will  soon  die  away  and  that  when  peace  comes 
about  normal  relations  will  soon  be  restored.  It  is 
not  human  nature.     Like  the  snake  in  the  garden 


I 


The  Heritage  of  Hate  241 

of  Eden  which  brought  the  hatred  of  the  race  upon 
Itself  so  that  evermore  "  the  heel  of  mankind  shall 
crush  the  serpent's  head,"  so  has  Germany  brought 
down  the  maledictions  of  the  human  race  upon 
her  head,  so  that  for  a  long  time  to  come  the  hand 
of  every  man  will  be  against  her.  This  is  the  sad 
part  of  it  all  and  this  is  the  crime  for  which  Ger- 
many will  yet  give  account.  I  heard  one  soldier, 
who  had  had  more  than  ordinary  experience  with 
their  method  of  atrocity,  say:  "I'd  like  to  have 
every  man,  woman,  and  child  in  Germany  killed 
without  mercy  and  I'd  like  to  be  there  with  the 
bayonet  to  finish  up  the  job  I  " 

I  maintain  that  if  God  be  just,  not  that  man, 
but  his  enemy  who  drove  him  to  that  attitude  will 
be  held  to  account  for  his  fearful  hatred.  When 
history  is  written  and  when  Germany,  instead  of 
profiting  by  her  sin,  shall  be  eating  the  bitter  fruits 
of  her  own  unrighteousness  then  shall  the  Scrip- 
ture be  fulfilled  in  her  ears,  "Ye  cannot  gather 
grapes  of  thorns  nor  figs  of  thistles."  "The  way 
of  the  transgressor  is  hard,"  and  "  In  like  manner 
as  ye  sow,  so  shall  ye  reap,  full  measure,  heaped 
up,  shaken  together,  running  over." 

It  is  not  merely  a  penalty  placed  by  the  Allied 
nations   upon   an   offending   country.      It   is   not 


242  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

simply  that  we  shall  say  we  will  "get  even  with 
her  "  and  will  take  revenge  for  all  her  Inhuman  out- 
rages, but  It  Is  that  the  immutable  fiat  of  God  goes 
forth,  and  that  the  one  who  flings  himself  against 
that  great  law  shall  pay  to  the  uttermost  farthing. 


CHAPTER  XLIII 


MY  FISTS  are  now  clinched  I    I  am  fighting 
^ow.    My  experience  as  I  have  here  given 
It,  drives  me  to  this  inevitable  conclusion.     Ger- 
many, as  she  now  is  organized,  cannot  be  tolerated 
in  a  modern  world.     She  must  be  vanquished! 
Bloodshed  is  not  the  worst  thing  in  life.     The 
slaughter  of  the  men  who  are  enslaving  and  killing 
millions  is  today  a  Christian  duty,  so  help  me  God  I 
To  me  has  come  the  Great  Awakening.    I  have 
surrendered  myself  to  Him.    America,  the  strong- 
est democracy  of  history,  has  undertaken  to  fight 
and  defeat  the  Kaiser.     Every  man,  woman,  and 
child  in  this  nation  must  be  mobilized  in  order  to 
guarantee  this  outcome.     In  this  supreme,  vital 
hour,  the  pacifist  and  the  slacker  shall  suffer  the 
damnation  of  hell!     Fighters  are  patriots  —  paci- 
fists are  traitors.    The  whole  nation  must  undergo 
a  rigid  system  of  preparedness  to  accomplish  this 
great   task   of   safe-guarding   our   own   and   the 
world's  liberties,  and  further  than  that,  to  make  a 

243 


244  ^Back  From  Hell*' 

more  stalwart  citizenship  than  we  now  possess. 
We  need  a  more  robust  young  manhood  than  we 
have.  We  are  living  in  the  greatest  Republic  the 
world  ever  saw.  We  have  more  liberty  than  any 
land  on  earth  —  more  than  some  people  know  how 
to  use  sensibly.  But  "  eternal  vigilance  is  the  price 
of  liberty,"  therefore,  my  people,  arouse !  I  plead, 
and  get  behind  the  government  with  every  ounce 
of  energy  and  support  that  you  can  muster.  Buy 
Liberty  Bonds,  give  to  the  Red  Cross,  conserve 
the  food,  encourage  the  drafted  men,  enlist  your- 
self in  some  branch  of  the  Service  and  Help  to 
Win  This  War!  If  you  can't  go,  remember  this: 
You  must  equip  the  brave  fellows  who  do  go.  As 
my  friend  said  to  me,  "  None  of  us  must  think  his 
part  insignificant." 

Out  there,  it  Is  a  fact  that  the  spirit  of  sacrifice 
is  contagious.  No  man  counts  his  life  dear  to 
himself.  It  must  become  so  here.  Every  shoulder 
is  required  at  the  wheel,  as  our  foe  is  a  monstrous 
one. 

I  labor  under  no  delusions  as  to  the  weakness 
of  the  enemy.  Germany  is  still  powerful  and  will 
fight  with  the  desperation  of  an  animal  that  Is  cor- 
nered, and  we  must  prepare  for  a  long,  hard  battle. 
Universal  Service  today  Is  the  one  thing  which  Is 


''Back  From  Heir' 245 

saving  America  and  civilization.  Always  remem- 
ber that.  And  our  youths  need  it  to  make  men  of 
them  mentally  and  physically.  Our  boys  need  it 
for  their  own  good  and  the  good  of  the  future. 
It  is  a  preparation  for  life  that  we  need  in 
America  and  with  it  we  will  be  prepared  for 
anything. 

We  have  had  perhaps  too  much  liberty  in  our 
land,  and  it  has  often  made  boys  a  lawless,  care- 
less, disrespectful,  slouchy  crowd,  thinking  only  of 
what  they  can  get  out  of  life  and  not  of  what  they 
can  give  in  the  way  of  service.  These  are  not  my 
personal  opinions.  They  are  well-known  facts  and 
the  highest  army  officers  have  bitterly  complained 
of  them.  Even  the  father  who  is  against  Universal 
Service  will  admit  their  truth.  The  boys  of 
America  need  to  learn  courtesy,  obedience,  re- 
spect, efficiency.  Their  hearts  are  right  and  the 
present  fault  is  not  entirely  their  own.  They  have 
not  been  disciplined.    Let  us  now  be  wise. 

I  am  closing  up  my  little  book.  Fm  back  from 
hell.  Back  from  the  hell  made  by  the  Kaiser  and 
his  German  hordes  in  Europe.  But  also,  and  more 
significantly,  back  from  the  hell  of  pacifism,  when 
God  is  crying,  **  Militancy,  my  son  I  "  Back  from 
the  hell  which  says,  "  Sleep  on,  thou  sluggard,  in 


246 ''Back  From  Heir' 

thy  peace  and  cowardice,  while  God,  and  the  other 
nations  are  awake  and  doing,  against  the  wicked 
adversary."  Back  from  the  hell  which  whispers, 
*'Lose  thy  soul,  but  save  thy  skin."  Back  from 
the  hell  in  which  men  like  David  Starr  Jordan  and 
Mr.  Bryan  and  my  humble  self  have  been.  Paci- 
fism is  hell,  when  heaven  challenges  the  soul  to 
fight.  So  I  am  going  to  fight.  I  have  found  my 
soul  through  war.  I'm  a  saved  man.  I'm  happy 
at  last  and  I  am  going  to  preach  it  now.  I  am  go- 
ing to  speak  and  write  as  long  as  I  have  power, 
to  help  America  win  the  war  primarily,  and  then 
to  help  make  America  a  better  country  by  making 
her  people  better  citizens,  and  thus  help  to  make 
this  place  we  live  in  a  better  world. 

We  must  fear  God  and  down  the  Kaiser.  And 
I  do  not  know  of  any  more  fitting  words  that 
could  be  used  in  closing  up  this  little  war  message 
to  the  American  people,  from  a  common,  humble 
helper,  than  those  of  our  great  National  Anthem : 

Then  conquer  we  must,  for  our  cause  it  is  just, 
And  this  be  our  motto:  —  "/«  God  Is  Our  Trust. ^* 
The  star-spangled  banner  in  triumph  shall  wave 
O'er  the  land  of  the  free,  and  the  home  of  the 
brave. 


''Back  From  Hell"  247 

And  may  the  ideals  of  that  flag  and  the  flags 
of  our  noble  Allies  guide  the  destinies  of  the 
world,  and  Christ  again  become  the  guide  of 
human  life  and  Prussianistic  Militarism  be  speed- 
ily ground  to  powder. 

No  true  social  order  can  be  erected  upon  a  false 
foundation.  Autocracy  is  false,  pernicious,  and 
rotten  from  top  to  bottom.  Therefore  it  must  be 
annihilated  root  and  branch  before  the  peoples  of 
the  earth  can  find  freedom  and  happiness.  The 
old  structure  must  be  entirely  torn  down  and  the 
social  order  built  on  a  new  foundation. 

The  United  States  has  consecrated  herself  to 
this  task.  Stupendous  as  It  is,  she  can  accomplish 
it.  France  has  done  her  part,  Britain  has  per- 
formed her  duty,  but  France  and  Britain  today  are 
calling  to  us.  Not  In  any  spirit  of  boastfulness 
therefore,  but  In  a  spirit  of  deep  humility  coupled 
with  a  determined  confidence  must  we  respond  to 
their  urgent  plea.  We  must  go,  we  must  give, 
we  must  sacrifice.  If  America  Is  to  save  the  situa- 
tion, as  I  believe  she  Is,  she  must  know-before- 
hand that  it  will  be  at  a  price  such  as  she  has  never 
paid  before.  Widows  will  pine  and  daughters 
will  mourn.    Rachel  will  weep  In  the  midnight  for 


248  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

her  sons  because  they  are  not  and  orphans  will 
cry  themselves  to  sleep.  But  out  of  the  blackness 
the  consolation  which  comes  to  me  is  that  through 
it  all  we  will  find  our  soul  and  we  v/ill  obey  the 
summons  of  a  just  and  righteous  God.  To  do  less 
were  craven. 

America,  like  other  nations,  may  sometime  go 
down.  When  we  have  accomplished  our  mission 
we  too  may  pass  off  the  stage  of  action.  But, 
please  God,  when  the  names  shall  be  called  from 
the  great  Book  of  Life  and  the  records  of  the 
nations  now  gone,  shall  be  read,  lack  of  vision  and 
failure  in  duty  shall  not  be  charged  against  Amer- 
ica; and,  In  the  new  and  better  world,  America's 
part  in  making  possible  the  higher  order  of  things 
shall  be  recognized  and  acknowledged. 

Every  man  has  his  duty.  Every  woman  her 
sphere.  There  is  nothing  worth  living  for  In  the 
present  hour  but  to  assist  In  defeating  Germany. 
And  let  me  sound  a  warning  here  and  now,  loud 
and  clear,  that  the  person  who  Is  found  unwilling 
or  Inactive  In  the  accomplishment  of  this  one  goal 
will  sooner  or  later  feel  the  bitterness  of  what  it 
is  to  be  "  a  man  without  a  country."  He  will  come 
to  hate  himself. 

On  the  other  hand,  he  who  does  his  part,  who 


_ 


''Back  From  Heir' 249 

gives  himself  unstintedly  in  this  hour  of  the  world's 
woe,  and  who  does  not  calculate  the  personal  cost, 
will  have  the  boundless  and  undying  gratitude  of 
future  ages.  These  will  have  a  part  in  the  greatest 
humanizing  and  redemptive  work  since  earth  be- 
gan and  "the  generations  shall  rise  up  and  call 
them  blessed.'*  They  also  will  be  able  to  boast  the 
honor  of  having  been  true  Americans. 

As  for  myself,  I  know  not  what  the  future  holds. 
My  personal  fortunes  are  in  the  hands  of  God  and 
my  country.  The  pastorate  which  I  resigned  has. 
been  filled  by  another. 

But  I  do  know  this:  that  I  have  been  used  in 
the  great  cause  of  democracy  in  a  hundred  times 
larger  way  than  I  ever  was  before  or  ever  could 
have  been,  had  I  not  gone  to  the  war  and  been 
converted  to  militant  justice.  I  am  hoping  to  go 
back  again,  but  in  the  meantime  the  government 
has  been  using  my  humble  services  in  a  way  which 
is  most  gratifying  to  me.  I  have  traveled  from 
one  end  of  the  continent  to  the  other  delivering 
lectures  to  American  citizens  and  trying  to  rouse 
them  to  their  duty.  I  have  probably  spoken  to  a 
million  people,  and  I  hope  this  book,  with  the  same 
object  in  view,  may  reach  as  many  more.  And  the 
people  have  been  most  kind  to  me.    In  places  like 


2^0  ''Back  From  Hell'' 

Tremont  Temple,  Boston;  Carnegie  Hall,  New 
York;  and  Orchestra  Hall,  Chicago,  audiences  of 
thousands  have  given  me  memorable  ovations. 
And  when  I  spoke  for  Dr.  HIllIs,  In  Henry  Ward 
Beecher's  old  church,  the  congregation  applauded 
to  the  echo,  even  though  It  was  the  Sabbath  day. 
And  all  I  ask  for  the  future  Is  that  my  life  may 
be  worn  out  for  God  and  my  country.    Au  Revoirf 


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